Forgiving Fate
by krystal214
Summary: Taking a risk, Hermione and Draco are forced to trust each other in order to stay alive. A bond is forged which has unforeseen consequences for more than just the pair. How will they survive the aftermath of that day when being apart might kill them, but being together makes them want to kill each other? Can skip to chapter 4 if the content of the first few chapters seems too dark.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I have now fully immersed myself in the Draco and Hermione pairing. It happened by accident, never having occurred to me previously, but it was a fantastic discovery. I went through a seriously indulgent preoccupation with this couple where I read through hundreds of fics whenever I had the opportunity. I really have enjoyed writing this story, especially since angst (even in the small dose contained here) is not something I have attempted before.

**-"Forgiving Fate"-**

With yet another sigh of resignation, Draco continued to walk through his once stately childhood home imagining he was anywhere else. The frightening truth of the situation he found himself in was undeniably dreadful. He thought of countless alternatives that were doomed to fail as he followed the most disturbing trail of metaphoric breadcrumbs anyone could have ever conceived – freshly-fallen crimson droplets on high-glossed mahogany floors. The scene was enough to set off a wave of nausea which Draco wasn't even able to show properly, his movements being carefully monitored by the many Death Eaters he passed along his way.

The path he travelled needed no gruesome demarcation, however. After all, he knew well enough the way to his own bedroom. That was the intended destination for the bleeding girl who was the source of the mess now splattered along Malfoy Manor's halls. No, Draco knew where he was going all too well. He was simply taking his time getting there in the hopes that Hermione Granger would be rendered unconscious by the time of his arrival.

As the trail of gory red evidence suggested, it was certainly possible she had succumbed to the pain of her injuries already. Either that or any number of curses his deranged aunt had laid upon her should have caused her to pass out completely by Draco's estimation. The young Death Eater prayed to any higher power that would listen to the pleas of his wicked heart that Hermione's relentless Gryffindor perseverance would falter just this once. Anything which would leave Draco free from obligation to follow through with his aunt's wishes for their prisoner for a little while longer would be a welcome respite, a mercy he may not have deserved but desperately wanted.

As he reluctantly reached his destination in the long third floor corridor which housed his personal quarters, he noticed the elder Crabbe and Goyle conspiring quietly in front of his room. They hushed as he drew near, making Draco suspicious as to the condition of the captive who he was to now confront whether he wanted to or not.

The Senior Death Eaters didn't speak to him at all even as he approached the door, which was eerie given the looks of excitement on their faces. Feigning as much confidence as Draco could summon to avoid providing them with the satisfaction of an intimidated reaction, he stoically moved past them to reach for the knob of the door, all the while reeling from the daggers they were staring into his back.

Instead of announcing their issue with him directly, the derisive pair continued murmuring quietly to each other as they hurriedly fled back downstairs to entertain Draco's sadistic aunt until the Dark Lord's arrival. Their hasty exit was not the issue Draco was concerned with as it was common knowledge that leaving Bellatrix Lestrange alone to her own devices for an extended period of time was unwise, especially since her time in Azkaban had compounded her lunacy. No, Draco's worry over the situation came when the two minions had walked past him without a single word spoken in his direction, an inherent danger conveyed in their unprecedented aloofness.

Twin looks of accusation played on their faces, their hands looking as if they were eager to draw their wands upon him. That in itself was noteworthy considering Draco was his _father's_ son – the Malfoy heir. His family simply outranked the Crabbes and the Goyles due to their higher social status. Fair deference to his family would typically be shown when the Dark Lord was not present to circumvent the usual pecking order. Despite the fact they had always treated the Malfoys with respect in the past, Draco was sure he heard Crabbe remark something about "wasting a perfectly good mudblood whore on a spoiled little coward" just loud enough for it to have been purposeful.

With the two bottom-feeders now out of sight, despite wanting more than anything to put a familiar barrier between him and all of the evil happening downstairs, Draco paused turning the handle of his bedroom door. The knowledge of what awaited him inside was enough to give him pause. He was in no hurry to rush to the side of his bloodied enemy, especially when she was sure to be seething with anger from being captured and tortured in the first place.

While the sympathy he felt for her was understandable despite the fact she was the same girl who irritated him to no end at Hogwarts, there was something else causing his hesitation that Draco could not seem to reconcile. Whatever _it_ was, he was disconcerted about his feeling of righteous anger with the Gryffindor Princess as it lacked any reasonable explanation. However mysterious the cause, he was simply aware that _it_ far surpassed his usual level of annoyance with the swotty know-it-all.

Perhaps it was the terribly ironic and slightly bothersome fact that of all people to be found by Scabior's band of mindless Snatchers, Draco believed Hermione Granger to be better than that. The fact became more beguiling that her former tormentor felt disappointed in his rival for her failure to avoid capture, an action which inevitably put him in the situation to make these startling and unwanted revelations. While it was nothing short of remarkable, Draco would have to ponder those disturbing thoughts later because right now he had expectations to uphold even if he had no idea how he would accomplish his assignment.

Walking into his bedroom with a sudden flourish, Draco shut the door behind him forcefully in a laughable attempt to feel more secure; temporarily hidden away from the perversions happening outside of his room always gave him a chance to calm down. Momentarily relieved to be in his relatively safe personal space, any accumulated bravado left his body the moment he saw Hermione Granger lifelessly laying on his thick, goose down duvet. She was so completely still, lying helpless and blood-splattered in a way he had never thought possible from the annoyingly vivacious girl. If he hadn't known better he would have thought her to be dead because of her current bloodied, battered condition.

Nothing about this situation seemed right to Draco anymore. Everything was out of balance. Even the modicum of peace he had previously experienced while locked away in his bedroom was being ruined by Hermione Granger's presence. It seemed like the world had gone completely askew and there would be no safe haven left for Draco Malfoy anywhere in the world.

Fighting the urge to run and hide, he reproachfully looked at the infuriating girl who had always surpassed him yet was now left to the whims of Death Eater cruelty. It was in this scenario that his mind was being overwhelmed, contradictions and insufficient evidence creating a maelstrom of strife as he stood frozen in his indecision.

From a child he had been told how great he was, how special and unique. Pure. Elite. It was incessantly drilled into him from the time he could talk that those of elevated blood status were better than the muggle-borns in every possible way. He lived his adolescent life by that claim despite the nagging contradictions Crabbe and Goyle posed to challenge that notion every single time they played together as children during their fathers' secret meetings. How stupid could he have been to think those two dim-witted thugs were better than other wizards simply because of their surname?

Despite the truth that was staring him in the face, it didn't become glaringly obvious that his pureblood mantra had flaws until he started attending Hogwarts with the very "inferiors" his father had warned him about. Draco had naturally assumed all the muggle-born students, and the half-bloods to some degree, would do worse in their subjects due to their magical handicap. Yet Hermione Granger, a muggle-born witch, had surpassed them all – even Draco Malfoy, the regal pureblood who could trace his lineage back to the time of the Founders. It was that resentment which stirred his hatred over the years.

Using Hermione Granger as a scapegoat for his confusing, indignant sentiments of pureblood pride, Draco had ignored his doubts and blindly followed his father's example. Now that he had a good look at the world outside his father's delusions of grandeur in the Dark Lord's "utopia", Draco knew that simplistic, bigoted view of the world wasn't the case. Granger was the special one in this situation, annoyingly so. She was "pure" of both body and mind, and now he was supposed to corrupt her fully.

Bellatrix had insisted he "dirty her up" as much as her lowly blood status suggested she should be. An untouched virgin mudblood was loathed to the deranged Madam Lestrange who would have preferred the entire world were as warped and perverted as she was.

As much as it pained Draco to admit it, there was a sick part of him he only just realized he was harboring which was looking forward to sullying the Gryffindor Princess just to make them more equal. The very idea of it was disturbing and somehow alluring at the same time. It made him sick that now he was left with no choice despite having fought an almost constant internal battle with his learned Death Eater inclinations ever since the debacle in the Astronomy Tower with Dumbledore. That horrible incident and everything leading up to it had cast the final shadow of doubt on his convictions to the pureblood cause, irrevocably curing him of his blind devotions.

"Damn it, Granger," Draco angrily grumbled as he slammed his fists against the door, hating the fact she was once again making things so difficult for him to make sense of. With his face falling against the hard wooden obstruction, he shivered, hearing Bellatrix's sudden cackling resonating from downstairs.

Sickened by his aunt's maniacal laughter, he hopelessly groaned, "I can't do this! How the hell am I supposed to do this?" With his head resting on the door as if he was a heartbeat away from collapsing against it in defeat, he continued muttering to himself. He needed to find a plausible solution to this appalling dilemma, something which would allow whatever was left of his soul to remain intact. He just had no idea how he was going to do it.

Laying on what Hermione could only assume was Draco Malfoy's plush bed based on the conversation she overheard between the two goons who dragged her limp body up to the third floor, the clever Gryffindor was careful to take a moment to assess her situation. Before she attempted to fight back in any way she wanted to think things over thoroughly, as planning and logic had always proven her greatest advantage when faced with insurmountable circumstances before. Especially since she'd probably only get one chance to escape, she wanted to make the most of her effort. Not wanting to compromise the only strength she had left in her diminutive, wandless position – playing dead – she was forced to assess the odds of confronting Draco directly the moment he arrived.

After the trio had been forcibly detained and harshly delivered to Malfoy Manor, Hermione had briefly thought their situation to be absolutely tragic. It was glaringly obvious that they were well behind enemy lines, stuck in the worst possible scenario inside one of Voldemort's hideouts without the possibility of a rescue since no one from the Order knew they'd been caught. All of those thoughts had occurred to Hermione even before Bellatrix started ripping through the flesh of her arm, making the possible outcome for the Trio look bleak at best.

Admittedly, Hermione's courage was wavering until the moment Draco refused to confirm Harry's identity for the other Death Eaters. Her schoolyard enemy's refusal ushered in a glimmer of hope for their possible survival. However small, if there was still at least a miniscule possibility they could avoid this situation ending in the worst conceivable way, Hermione would remain resilient, strategize and hopefully prevail. And though she could have easily resigned herself to a horrible fate after the first letter was carved into her arm, she had managed to stay strong for herself and her friends.

After being viciously manhandled by Bellatrix, her psychotic torturer gave instructions for Hermione to be delivered to the privacy of Draco's room as "a present". With a cackle, the insane female Death Eater giddily proclaimed that she intended to make up for lost time with her favorite nephew, saying he deserved a proper toy since she had been unable to send anything fun as a gift from Azkaban for his birthdays over the years. Even with the implications of being a "toy" ringing in her ears, trying to ignore what might become of her once they reached their destination, Hermione continued to "play dead" until an opportunity presented itself.

While being crudely fondled by the Death Eater lackeys who carried her through the house, she had to fight her face betraying her sense of disgust that even though they could have levitated her body they chose to physically transport her to allow time for their hands to roam. During their tour of Malfoy Manor, Hermione found herself thinking of various spells she could attempt if she could somehow get her hand on a wand. While she was busy revising her thoughts with the pockets of information she had passively acquired while feigning unconsciousness, Hermione learned that Voldemort would be returning to the Manor later that evening. That news made the circumstances all the more severe if she didn't rise to the occasion and act fast to get Harry out of harm's way.

As scary as the prospect was, Hermione knew it would serve her better to deal with the smaller obstacles which stood in the Trio's way to freedom before dwelling on the fact Harry's mortal enemy was due to make an appearance in the scaly flesh very soon. It was bitingly clear that the first hurdle for Hermione to overcome was going to be Draco Malfoy.

After the disgusting duo dropped her on the bed, she waited for Malfoy while almost laughing at the absurdity of her plan of trying to reason with the pig-headed prat. Finally hearing his abrupt entrance, she remained steadfast and silent to gauge his behavior for just a moment. Although listening to his ramblings while he banged his fists on the door, it wasn't as if Hermione really could have spoken anyway. She had been rendered dumbstruck.

He sounded so uncharacteristically confused and desperate that she knew she had to take his frantic disposition into consideration. With this new information and the observations she had made since the Trio's capture, Hermione began to think maybe luck was on their side after all. Truly only a little Felix Felices could have accounted for Draco being on her side, even reluctantly.

Though no amount of mental preparation could have helped ready Hermione to hear the self-deprecating tone which Malfoy had been quietly chastising himself with from the moment the door shut. Probably thinking he was in a relatively private space, his commentary was scathing and significantly more honest than she ever believed him capable. Knowing she only witnessed it because Draco believed her to be as unconscious as she appeared after suffering his aunt's brutal treatment downstairs, Hermione planned to use this knowledge to her advantage.

In the perceived solitude of his own room, it was revealed to the abused girl that his loyalties were compromised in a way no one on either side would have ever expected. As surprising as it seemed to hear at first, the more Hermione listened to him audibly wade through his deep moral confliction the more she was able to make sense of his strange predicament. Though his muttering was barely discernible at times, there was an incessant loop of things he was saying about not being "completely evil" and wanting to _Avada_ himself just to "get out of this situation".

Aside from his almost nonsensical rambling, Hermionereluctantly recognized the precarious situation her loathsome schoolyard nemesis found himself in. She was surprised to see some unlikely similarities in their "trapped" circumstances. With his family so engrained in Voldemort's dark magic assault on the wizarding world, Draco felt he was in too deep to find a way back out again. And as difficult as it was for her to admit, she identified with that idea after having effectively erased her own existence from her parent's lives because of her involvement in the same war, albeit on the other side.

Hermione wanted to give her family every chance to survive no matter her fate. She was far too embroiled in the conflict between Harry and Voldemort to pull out despite the pain it caused her to eradicate her parents' memories of her. She simply had to do what she needed to in order to keep her parents safe; to protect them just as Draco had apparently done to fulfill his father's "debts" to the Dark Lord following the elder Malfoy's incarceration. It was in that analogy that Hermione understood things from Draco's perspective, but his father, at the very least, was undeserving of his son's loyalty.

From the moment the captured Trio was forced through the regal estate's front doors, Hermione had seen the way Lucius Malfoy was mistreating Draco. Somehow Lucius had disconnected himself from the fact that he alone was to blame for the hardship his family was forced to endure under Voldemort's rule, placing the responsibility of restoring their prominent position squarely in the hands of his teenaged son. After only a few minutes with them it became abundantly clear to Hermione that Lucius Malfoy would have sacrificed anything without a second thought to achieve his former glory - even his own child. So desperate to be back in his Dark Lord's good graces, it now seemed obvious that Draco knew that very biting fact as well.

His overwhelming guilt or whatever new-found conscience he was displaying could be used to manipulate him if the opportunity arose. _How very Slytherin of me_, she thought, but decided that when in the snake-pit it was best to slither and sneak in the same way as her enemies until it was time to strike. Knowing time was not her ally at the moment, deciding that she had pretended to be asleep long enough, Hermione suddenly sprang up to a sitting position on the bed.

This abrupt action utterly surprised Malfoy, who instantly jumped back and drew his wand to defend himself from the potential retribution of his prisoner for her earlier mistreatment. Since she had no wand to protect herself if he struck before she explained she meant no harm, she ducked her head down with her hands raised in the air as submissively as possible. "Please, please wait, Malfoy!" she wailed.

He lowered his wand apprehensively, but kept his defensive stance just in case this was part of a carefully constructed ruse on Hermione's part. Draco knew from experience that she was crafty and could throw a mean punch. His wariness was therefore justifiable even if she was without her wand.

"Look, I can see you are dealing with a lot already," she offered solemnly, "but there's no time for this right now. I overheard what those handsy assholes who carried me in here were saying and we don't have a lot of time before they come back to check on your… um, _progress _withme," she said, trailing off a bit at the end.

"Why would you think I'd care if they decided to come back, Granger?" he asked, looking almost relieved at the prospect. "Perhaps they'll take you far away from here so I don't have to deal with your… filthiness dirtying up my silk sheets," he said as scornfully as possible. Before wasting another moment of awkwardness, Draco cast a few cleansing spells to rid the bed and Hermione's clothing of the blood which had seeped from her many wounds.

After he was finished, Draco became instantly uneasy as he watched her reaction, or rather her lack thereof. Between the comment from Crabbe Sr. in the hall and whatever halted Hermione from making a typically snide retort to his rudely spoken words, Draco suddenly understood the true gravity of whatever she overheard in the hallway. If it was enough to prevent her from flinging an equally insulting barb back at the over-privileged prat he was behaving like, something that spoke volumes from the sheer novelty, he knew it was significant.

Instead of responding to his comment, she watched him intently as he conveyed his false indifference by unnecessarily smoothing out his pristinely pressed Death Eater robes. His nonchalance didn't fool her, however; she saw the flicker of understanding in his eyes. And after what Hermione had observed from him while she was playing opossum on the bed, she was starting to think better of the off-handed insults he had always been so quick to wield. It almost made her head hurt to wonder if they had always been as transparent and she simply never noticed, used as a cover to mask his fear like they clearly were now.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," she said, completely disregarding his nasty words much to his surprise. "And just so you know, they will actually be coming back to check on _both _of us. They saw the way you reacted to Bellatrix carving into my arm and they weren't happy with you."

"What are you going on about?" he asked tersely. He was defensive in an attempt to deny the truth even though he already realized the blunder he had publicly committed downstairs. It happened the moment he flinched after Hermione's first scream echoed through the house, chilling him to the bone in a way even the Dark Lord's touch never had.

Unnecessarily, she explained it to him since he was being difficult and she was in a hurry. "All the others were completely unaffected by my torture, enjoyed it even, but not you. You gasped slightly before gripping your wand like you had it in your head, for even the briefest of moments, to stop her. Hell, even I noticed and I was busy screaming my head off."

"Yes, well, unlike the others I take no joy in hearing screams of torture. It's nothing personal, and certainly had nothing in particular to do with you, _Mudblood_," he said with a sneer, the sincerity lacking by the absence of force and conviction in the word he slung as an obvious defense mechanism.

"Well that may be your true opinion of me, but thank you for at least toying with the notion of helping me, however fleeting that thought might have been. You can't deny you did have the idea though because it was obvious to me, which unfortunately for you means it was to the rest of them as well. And now that they think you sympathize with me - with Harry - they suspect you're a potential traitor in their midst. Especially after you didn't identify Harry even though everyone was fairly certain it was him… Incidentally, since I know you knew it was him, I need to say thank you for doing that. That was dangerous… and very brave of you, Malfoy."

"For someone in a hurry to speak uninterrupted all you seem to be doing is flattering me, Granger. Get to the bloody point while we're both still breathing."

"Bellatrix's goons were whispering their suspicions of you to each other the whole way up here. They said if you don't 'take' me roughly like a true Death Eater would when given a shiny new toy to break, they believe they'll have all the proof they need to execute you on the spot. They intend to make a point against commiserating with the enemy to gain Voldemort's favor. They were also pissed that after you're dead I'll probably be given as a reward to Greyback for taking out an Order hideout or something last week. That is, of course, unless you _perform _the way they expect you to as a way of proving your allegiance. In that case, I am to be kept here as an example of how a pureblood should keep a "mudblood pet". While I have no idea what most of that meant, I know it had something to do with Voldemort's plan for his followers after he kills Harry and fully takes power."

"I don't understand what it is you're getting at. It almost sounds like you're… Are you saying you _want_ to stay here? You want me to do that to you, Granger? Why on Earth would you want that… from _me_?"

"It's not like I have a lot of options, you know. And don't you even say something conceited about me using this as an opportunity to finally make good on some fanciful crush I've been harboring for you or something, you pompous ferret. For your information, I don't want to do this either, but all I know is that if you don't take your 'dear Aunt Bella' up on her 'virgin sacrifice', as she kindly referred to me when she handed me over to those two idiots, then we're both screwed in more than just the literal sense of the word."

Hermione's cheeks flushed as she continued making her proposition, or rant depending on your perspective, her gusto faltering a little due to embarrassment. "The only thing that makes sense in this situation, the only thing that will keep us both breathing is to give in to what they want. I don't know what the Death Eater position is on things that seem insurmountable, but I plan to live to fight another day. If that means I have to have sex with you to do it then so be it."

A/N: I don't make money from these characters or concepts, but will happily accept reviews on this story as compensation. :) Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: The sexual tension between these two comes to a head here even if they are denying it to themselves for the majority of the chapter. Lemon ahead, as best I could manage given the restrictions. I tried re-writing it several times but had a hard time censoring myself here. Oh well, we'll see what happens.

**Forgiving Fate**

*Chapter 2*

He looked at her with wide eyes, shocked as if she had just announced her plans to become the first muggle-born Death Eater. Though he didn't want to admit it, Draco had to admire what he had previously considered to be her bothersome Gryffindor spirit since it was helping Hermione make peace with the ridiculous scenario she was detailing. The entire thing was absurdly humbling. Draco had never believed he would find himself in a situation where Hermione Granger was being the more cunning of the pair, something he intended to never be party to again if he could help it.

She drew in a deep breath, steadying her voice which had been escalating in volume as she spoke. "I never suspected I would say something like this about you after what happened with Dumbledore, but you seem to be the lesser evil in this situation. I, for one, am all for playing the odds towards my favor. Right now that means trusting you… because I do need your help," she paused to adjust her wavering voice to a more confident tone, "And I find that you are in a position which should properly motivate you to give it. You have to do this; if not for me or any sense of moral decorum in doing the right thing for once in your life, then for purely selfish reasons. Besides, I had long ago come to understand self-serving interests to be part of the Slytherin way."

Draco was astounded, not only by her cavalier attitude but the way she cleverly insulted both him and his house under the guise of asking for assistance. He realized in this moment that he had seriously underestimated his former classmate, consistently having seen her as simply Potter's brainy sidekick. With the insurmountable evidence to the contrary painting her as anything but a follower, Draco felt grateful to be free of that misconception. Hermione Granger was stepping up with a plan to save both of their asses from certain death, something he could believe was a very likely possibility for him after the way Crabbe and Goyle behaved in the hallway.

With a contemplative tone, he said seriously, "It wasn't supposed to be like this, you know? Even at his most extreme, _this_ isn't what I thought my father believed. When the Dark Lord returned Lucius Malfoy twisted and turned like the true snake that he is, bringing my mother and me down with him. I'm in prison here, Granger, and there will never be any sort of freedom in my future, not that there ever was really when you're bred from infancy to be a loyal, muggle-hating Death Eater."

With his honest admission making him look uncharacteristically vulnerable, Draco felt the need to reassert himself to the position he felt most comfortable - taunting and arrogant. "You're taking a huge leap of faith in trusting me, Granger." He looked at her, his eyes flashing a glimmer of warning to the already nervous girl running dangerously low on bravado. "I wouldn't trust me if I were you."

Feeling satisfied that he would assist her despite the mediocre protest, she countered, "Let's say that I am better at seeing shades of gray than black or white. Even if you can't admit it just yet, based on what I just overheard, you may have taken the Dark Mark on your arm but it has obviously not taken hold of your soul yet."

"I'm not so sure about that myself, Granger. I really don't see how you could be."

"The fact that instead of writhing in pain on the floor from the Cruciatus I'm sitting here having the first civil conversation we have _ever_ had in all the years I have known you is proof enough of that for me."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, I suppose, but how do you know I'm not just biding my time and waiting for the perfect moment for you to let your guard down so I can take the most satisfaction out of all of this?" Malfoy asked with as much malice as he could. As menacing as he tried to sound, the sinister implication was contradicted by a defeated-looking Draco uncomfortably shifting to the edge of the bed as far away from her as possible.

"At this particular moment, I think you know you have as much to lose as I do. Maybe more depending on what they might do to you for having mercy on someone like me."

Draco looked thoughtful as he considered Hermione's words, knowing she was closer to the truth than she realized. Even if the elder Crabbe and Goyle, the "goons" Hermione heard talking as they felt her up on the way to his room, returned and killed him for failing to brutally ravage his former schoolmate, his mother would surely be the next pawn to be sacrificed in his father's cruel games.

Coming to the depressing and albeit inevitable issue with the brave girl's proposition, Malfoy replied despondently. "I have never done _that_ under conditions like these before."

"Yeah, well, I have never done _that_ before - ever," Hermione retorted sharply, noting the way his frown deepened as he fully grasped the enormity of things from her perspective. It seemed ironic to see his sensitivity displayed now, never realizing he could feel anything other than a smug sense of Slytherin pride. Yet there he sat, effectively empathizing with her supremely awful predicament – losing her virginity to an enemy as a survival strategy.

With a deep sense of shame clearly portrayed on his face, he hung his head low before pushing the heels of his hands into his temples to soothe his forming stress headache. "This is not… I don't want… I'm no rapist, Granger. I don't think I can do this. I've never been with someone who was unwilling before," he said in a whisper so soft Hermione wasn't sure if she was meant to hear it.

She had little doubt that his statement was true, having heard the rumors about Malfoy and all of the _very_ willing groupies who dedicatedly followed him around just begging for another chance. Word had it he was not into encore performances; much to the girls' chagrin when they found out their encounter with him was a one-time deal.

More than the fact that _they_ pursued _him_, he had probably never been told "no" about anything in his whole life, especially not where women were concerned given his looks and familial wealth. She surprised herself with that thought, somehow finding it in her to sympathize with him in a way she could have never dreamed possible only hours before. Hermione suddenly couldn't help but think that she wouldn't want to be on his end in this strange situation either.

Despite the glimmer of understanding she felt for his crumbling pride, the hypothetical knowledge of how many times he had probably had sex before began mocking her already dangerously low self-esteem. Hermione started getting angrier from his reluctance; she was the virgin with everything to lose, yet essentially became the one begging him to have sex with her just like one of the floozies in his ever-expanding harem. With the perceived insult wounding her further, she became livid over his hesitation, thinking that he still couldn't get over his prejudice long enough to save both of their lives.

It was difficult to do due to the plushness of the mattress which seemed to keep knocking her back no matter how much she struggled against the grain, but Hermione finally managed to get on her knees and scoot closer to him. She spouted angrily as she inched forward on the bed, a finger poking his arm accusatorially. "Well, you are just going to have to find a way to do it, Malfoy! I know that you loathe the thought of touching me, especially with how disgusting you think I am with my 'dirty blood' and all that nonsense, but surely you have enough intelligence to see that death is a far worse fate than shagging a mudblood."

"Oh how I've come to despise that word, Granger," he grumbled under his breath, jumping off of the bed and pacing the room in tight ellipses while she was left dumbstruck by his radically altered point of view. While she appreciated the more receptive attitude, memories of his former comments and hateful slurs about blood purity clouded her judgment, blocked her from seeing the truth in his remorseful eyes. "I'm sure not as much as I do," she whisper-screamed to him. The vehemence of Hermione's words forcefully stopped him in his tracks. Abruptly, she punctuated her statement by sticking out her abused arm as proof.

Despite the dimly lit room, he was immediately drawn to the wound though it was clear he'd rather look away. His pained eyes told a much different story than the one she would have expected as little as an hour before, but everything had changed so drastically in such a short time that she felt like they were just meeting for the first time.

He looked so haunted - so lost - that despite all odds and evidence to the contrary, Hermione wanted to hug _him_ as he disgustedly took at his Aunt's handiwork on her forearm. To her astonishment, Draco's impotent anger with the entire situation was practically bursting out of the deep liquid-silver pools of his eyes while he studied the hateful slur now firmly embedded into her skin.

As if suddenly defeated by the word "Mudblood" spelled out so plainly before his eyes, Malfoy slumped on the bed, his back to her slightly as if he was too embarrassed to face the injured woman behind him. "I have failed the Dark Lord quite a bit lately - my father too. They are looking for a way to get my father to perform with even more devotion, more vigor. Killing me and threatening my mother's life would certainly accomplish that task.

"So you see I know you're right, I know I need to do this in order to save myself but you're wrong about what's stopping me. It isn't your blood, no matter what I may have claimed in the past. And I'm truly sorry, Granger, because Greyback is a vicious monster, but I don't think I can… um, _physically_ do this under these tense conditions. Understand?"

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, you shag anything you can get your hands on, but this – now – in the hour your man-whoring is needed for an actual purpose you have nothing to offer? It _is_ because it's me, isn't it? Just admit it! Because you think I'm plain-looking… and 'dirty' too, right? You've told me that at least a hundred times over the years, but I thought that maybe you could look past that just this once."

Insulted, Hermione sobbed a little, making sure to keep her voice down as to not gain any unwanted attention from those lurking outside their room. She whined despite her vow to stay in control, almost pleading with him as she spoke. "And now we're going to die because you're probably more attracted to Ron because he's a goddamn pureblood instead of me."

"The mental image of shagging the Weasel is certainly not helping my _situation_ here, Granger," he grumbled, making a vague gesture to his crotch. Hermione couldn't help but chuckle mirthfully despite her silent tears. "And just so you know, I really did say all those things just to hurt you. Unlike everybody else at school, you have always fought so passionately, especially against me. I have grown to appreciate and respect that kind of vehemence in a personality as feisty as your own. So, if you think about it, if you were plain and ordinary then I wouldn't have cared enough to even bother teasing you. I have always secretly enjoyed teasing you way more than I should have."

"I'd hate to break it to you, Malfoy, but your enjoyment of teasing me is widely known."

"That may be true, but the fact that most of the time I only did it because I actually think you're quite attractive when you're red-faced and furious is hardly common knowledge. I have also found that those conditions are especially true when you don't ruin the effect by being a know-it-all who always gets better grades than me," he said quietly, more light-hearted than anything else he had said to her thus far.

When his stormy eyes met her earth-toned ones, half of his trademarked smirk visible on the side of his face that she could see, her face flushed to a violent shade of red. Hermione gave him a small smile in return even though it came across as a sort of self-satisfied glare.

With a resigned sigh, she apprehensively scooted closer to him at the end of the bed. "Look, I'm not trying to make this any weirder than it has to be, but we need to work something out before someone comes in here to assess the damage you've done to the prisoner. Unfortunately for your _'stage fright'_ situation I don't think we can fake this." Draco gulped and Hermione had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

Aside from keeping Malfoy's potential interest in helping the Order's cause against Voldemort a secret, having sex with him was certainly the best way to keep herself in the Manor and hopefully placed back in the basement where the Death Eaters dragged Ron and disfigured-Harry. Her whole plan revolved around his agreement to play this part convincingly, and she was getting desperate for his compliance.

With a huff of annoyance, she continued, "Believe me the thought of giving a purely theatrical performance had already crossed my mind, but would be impossible to pull off since they are looking for any reason to go after you which would inevitably leave me to fend for myself with a maniacal werewolf. More than that, I can't leave without my friends, and I need to make sure I'm able to stay here with them… even if only as your _property_," she said, the last word tasting bitter in her mouth.

Draco nodded his head glumly. "Your assessment of the scenario is accurate; faking this won't be a possibility. Even if I savagely tore all your clothes off and we both acted out some depraved sexual scene for whoever would want to hear it, as soon as the werewolf returned and smelled that your scent hadn't… combined with mine he would know we were lying. That would make everything far worse for both of us, not to mention what would happen to you being given to Greyback as a virgin. I'd look like a traitor and you'd be dead by that monster's hands within an hour – a very painful last hour I might add." Finding the need to comfort them both from the reality of the situation, she put her shaky hands on his back and began rubbing his tense shoulders firmly.

To her utter shock at her own bold action, he responded in a way she hadn't anticipated - moaning slightly as she eased the ridiculously tight muscles in his neck. Hermione was just thankful he hadn't jumped away from her after feeling her "mudblood" hands on him. No matter the awkwardness, she knew she had to follow through with her plans to have "life or death" sex with Draco despite their mutual discomfort. His positive reaction to her touch was just making it much easier.

Clearly enjoying the affectionate contact, Draco relaxed into her touch. "Oh gods, that feels bloody amazing, Granger. Do you think you can… it might help if you talk to me for a minute or something. Maybe you could pretend that I'm someone else or do whatever you need to, but just… I don't know… maybe tell me… tell me that you want me," Malfoy practically whispered, embarrassment clear in his voice, something which was made worse when Hermione audibly exhaled in exasperation. "I'm sorry, Granger, but it would be a tremendous help to know you want this even a little."

She could not believe he was going to make her this complicit in her own supposed "rape". Hermione had been holding out the hope Draco would take over at some point and just get it over with. In the scenario she had devised in her head she simply braced herself, closed her eyes, and let him do whatever he needed to do as quickly as possible. In her version there would have been no guilt on her end, no need to feel shame for actually participating in this ridiculous scheme of hers. She would be able to walk away with her dignity intact.

As she thought it over she realized that was very unfair because this really was an uncomfortable situation for him as well. Realizing it actually made better sense to make the best of it, enjoying herself a little instead of just persevering, Hermione summoned her self-confidence and decided to play the part fully. Who knew how long she would be stuck there anyway, serving her role as Draco's personal sex slave providing they decided to let him keep her? Besides, if she was going to die in a few hours anyway then she'd rather have this experience be a semi-positive one.

Since the typically arrogant, albeit very handsome, prat was willing to put in the extra-effort to make things more enjoyable, she felt compelled to do the same. Hermione Granger did not half-ass anything, least of all in a situation where Draco Malfoy could best her. Concentrating on what she needed to do to aid their survival, she said a silent apology to Ron and Harry for what she was about to do with their sworn enemy and let instincts guide her. With one last steadying breath, she assumed her role as the sexual aggressor to help convince Draco to do the deed that would ultimately save them both from a decidedly grim fate.

Surprising him with her sudden exuberance, Hermione pushed herself flush against his back as she grasped his shoulders tightly, purposely pressing her breasts against him before bringing her mouth to hover close to the side of his neck. With a playful stroke of her tongue and a butterfly kiss just behind his ear, she breathily whispered, "Please, Draco, I can't think about anything other than having you inside me. It's driving me crazy. I want you so bad… I need this. I need you."

"Wow, Granger," he whispered back to her after the initial shock of her words subsided. "That was… impressive. Please keep going, just a little more, and then I'm going to kiss you like I wanted to at the Yule Ball. That way we can both just pretend that we aren't being coerced into this at all. In fact, let's imagine we just went on a date somewhere special, and then maybe went up to the Astronomy Tower or someplace secluded to get some privacy." It seemed like he needed a moment to pause and think things over, which Hermione took as an opportunity to pat herself on the back for stirring his desire in such an obvious way. She really never knew she had it in her to behave so wantonly, though she decided she was exhilarated by the feelings of empowerment that came along with it.

Looking over his shoulder, she watched his body react to their conversation, his posture quickly changing from sullen to self-assured. When he spoke again his tone was seductive and confident, almost as though he knew exactly what he was going to say and do next, something that secretly thrilled Hermione to her core. "You would want that, wouldn't you, Granger? You would want to go somewhere romantic with me. You'd want me to touch you, kiss you… make love to you. I would do all of that too, and we could stay like that for hours as if we were the only two people in the world. It would be so nice and _sweet_…" he said, letting the words linger as he looked at Hermione more fully.

When he finally started speaking again his voice was breathy, strained. "But I need to know, you need to tell me, would you want me to take you hard and rough too? Because it's your first time I'll try to go easy, but I'm really not sure I can be all that gentle with you. After all, I've denied how much I've wanted you for far too long. Tell me you want me like that too, Granger."

She awarded him with an unprecedented moan of agreement for his evocative words, instantly appreciative of how invested he was becoming in their verbal foreplay. When she presented him with her plan she never imagined Draco being quite like this with her in the execution of it – so openly excited. Deciding that stroking his ego a bit more seemed like the right move to get him even more enthusiastic rather than chance his earlier reluctance returning, Hermione started letting her hands creep down his shoulders to tug on the front of his shirt as she firmly rubbed her chest into his back. The more she touched him and inhaled the clean minty scent of his skin, the easier it was becoming to compliment him, especially if it would get him to speak to her in that sexy way again.

Hermione proceeded to place languorous open-mouth kisses along his neck while letting her hands slowly tease down his chest. She didn't want to let her mind start to overthink things when they were just turning heated, but she noticed the way he seemed to relax into her touch like a neglected puppy starved for affection. For some reason that turned her on even more, her aroused state manifesting in her brazen words. "I have imagined being with you before, Draco… I've always been too embarrassed to tell anyone because of all of the dirty things I let you do to me in my dreams, but they're just so deliciously sinful I can't keep it to myself any longer. I'm lucky I'm smart enough to pretend to pay attention in classes all these years when what I've really been doing is watching you. I sit in class and replay my fantasies as I secretly get myself off under the desk, wishing those were your fingers inside me."

"Merlin, Granger, tell me at least some of that is true… Swear to it," he demanded forcefully, swiftly turning his body to her with a serious look in his eyes. Apparently she had provoked him enough with that last declaration that his previous qualms had now completely subsided. With his nervousness gone, he looked positively predatory, his entire focus transfixed squarely on his prey.

Hermione reveled in his attention, answering without hesitation with the knowledge it was at least based in truth even though she was reluctant to admit to him which parts. She had never actually masturbated in class to thoughts of him, but that didn't stop her from taking the occasional long shower to get herself off in private. It had been like that since the day after she had punched him in third year. Their heated arguments in classes had always left her so hot and bothered with no other way to relieve the desire she had to both slap and kiss him at the same time that she was left with little other option.

"It's all true, Malfoy. I get off so hard thinking about you. I want you to show me how it could be between us, how the real you compares to my fantasies."

"Oh… that was so incredibly perfect, so sexy, Granger," he growled into her mouth as he promptly closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. Even though she was informally almost-dating Ron, doing this with Malfoy suddenly didn't feel like a betrayal to anyone anymore. It felt more like the inevitable conclusion of years of unresolved sexual tension between them, even if it only came about from the awful circumstances in which they now found themselves. There was so much built-up passion from both of them that those truths didn't need to be spoken at all. They were unnecessary, undeniably proclaimed in the fiery first kiss they shared.

After what was quickly becoming the most erotic experience of Hermione's life, she was disappointed for a moment when she felt him move away from her. Resting on his knees on the bed facing her, he leaned in slowly again, murmuring in her ear with more sincerity than she ever thought him capable. "I'm not going to say I never thought about this before because that would be a lie, but I am sorry that things have to be _this_ way… under these conditions. As much as I don't want to hurt you like this, especially knowing your virginity wasn't meant to be given to me, I know I'm a right bastard because I can't help but enjoy having you in my bed, Granger."

With a groan of approval for his unexpected words, blunt as they may have been, she pulled him as close as possible to her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she took him with her as Draco pushed her back down on to the plush mattress. Quickly putting his ample sexual expertise to good use, Hermione could do nothing but moan into his sultry kiss, happily pinned beneath him. Before she even knew what was happening, especially since she didn't remember pulling her hands out of his platinum blond hair to make it possible, his black shirt had been removed and discarded across the room along with his jacket.

Even though she had only fooled around with a few guys before, having found herself in a brief, awkward encounter the summer prior with a boy named Ryan, a friend of her American cousin, no one had ever made her feel so erotically charged before. And dear Godric, Draco had hardly even touched her yet.

Distancing himself slightly, she moaned as he palmed her breast roughly before he tweaked her nipple through her bra. Quickly moving to the hem of her shirt, he tugged upwards on the fabric until he pulled it all the way off her slim shoulders. Exposed to his lascivious gaze, Hermione brought one hand up to cup her own breast, caressing his bare stomach with the other. With a smirk playing on his face, he tsked her playfully, pulling further away to sit on his knees again as he started to remove the rest of their clothing. "You're not supposed to be enjoying this so much, remember?"

"Who says I'm enjoying this?" she asked with a pretend scowl, knowing the desperation in her tone betrayed what she meant to be a challenging comment. She looked at Draco's unclothed torso, seeing the undeniable proof of the damage which had been inflicted upon him for the first time. Tracing the lines she saw with one delicate finger, the pair said nothing as she continued her ministrations.

She knew the jagged, silver-toned gashes across his stomach and lower chest had been magically-healed, the result of his bloody encounter with Harry who had used the Half-blood Prince's cutting spell without knowing at the time it was Snape's own concoction. There were more though, many more, Hermione noted. Concealed under his aristocratic robes, Draco had dozens more which spoke to a cruelty far more profound than a single violent incident. He had been terribly abused, and recently if the angry red wounds marring his pale flesh were anything to go by.

Normally he would not have allowed himself to be seen this way, so exposed to another, but Hermione was not without her own set of scars. Concentrated to a few areas rather than the widespread marks on his own body, Hermione had been most severely injured just under the ribs on her left side. Draco couldn't help but wonder when that had happened and who had cast whatever curse it was that left her with such a substantial scar. It could have been any of them: one of the Lestranges, Yaxley, Dolohov, his father, or quite possibly even himself. It was remote, but there was a chance, having been in a few scuffles with various members of the Order since taking the Mark.

But the likelihood that it was the same individual who had caused his own suffering made Draco inhale sharply. Turning his head to look at her arm and the newest addition to Hermione's collection, he mirrored her movements and let his palm soothe the spot. He wanted to make sure she understood in that one touch that he still thought she was beautiful - scars and all. That wouldn't change no matter how many times a member of his family tried to cut her down. More than that, he wanted to relieve some of the hurt from those badges of a painful past which they'd always wear, something that made them so similar.

Shivering under her caring, gentle touch, his hand moved to the waistband of his pants, slowly sliding them down over his hips to reveal his unencumbered manhood. Springing forth, almost jumping at her, he chuckled at her surprised face as she gawked at him, wide-eyes combing over his fully naked body for the first time.

Feeling her intense gaze on him was all the confirmation he needed. He stated hotly, "Go on, Granger, you can tell yourself whatever you need to, that you aren't enjoying this even a little bit, but we both know that isn't true. This has been a long time coming and you know it."

Not wanting to feel embarrassed by her wanton reaction, or the fact Draco was right, she hastily countered, "There's no time to talk about this now, Malfoy, you ass. Someone is bound to come back soon. This is 'life or death' sex, remember?"

She heard him chuckle something about her being "an over-eager over-achiever" as he moved his hand to the top of her jeans, popping the button while keeping his eyes fixated on hers. After Draco slowly pulled down the zipper, he aided Hermione as she used both hands to shimmy out of her pants as fast as she could. As much as she tried to hide her brazen ogling of his body, she couldn't seem to stop staring at his strong chest and well-toned stomach, an action which inevitably led to longer, more daring glances even lower.

He smirked viciously at her, vindicated from her earlier half-hearted protests to the contrary by her lingering gaze. Hermione, knowing she had been caught openly staring, felt the need to defend herself in some way. "Well, what do you want to hear me say, Malfoy? Fine, I admit it. It's really no wonder you've always been such a conceited bastard," she said sharply, as if annoyed with the truth. "Look at you. I'm surprised you don't walk around naked just to further inflate your already enormous ego."

Though he didn't respond with anything more than a dark chuckle, he was tremendously pleased with the way Hermione was clearly getting herself turned on from seeing his nude body. Draco decided to do to the same with her, relishing the experience even though it was somewhat rushed. Taking in her dainty lilac-colored knickers, he licked his lips and all designs he had briefly entertained in taking things slowly because it was her first time evaporated into a flurry of movements. Mere seconds later, he had torn her bra and underwear from her body and firmly shoved her back down on the bed. Watching her face to gauge her reaction to his impulsive roughness, her ravenous eyes gave him all the permission he needed to continue.

Without any further moral compunction complicating her enjoyment of what she was being "forced" to do, Hermione gave herself over to her long-suppressed passion for her academic rival. Just the feeling of having his hard naked body rubbing against hers was like nothing she had ever experienced before. His torturously slow movements caused the most incredible friction as he pushed his now hard as a rock erection along her most intimate area. Being careful to tease without entering her just yet, Hermione was ready to scream from Draco's torturous method.

His large hands were roaming everywhere on her body except the places she desperately wanted him to touch most, purposely stimulating them through unmet desire. She was in ecstasy as his mouth seemed to be everywhere: on her face, neck, or any exposed piece of flesh he could find almost simultaneously. It was an incredible combination, like being unfettered after a lifetime of confinement, finally able to experience the world.

After Draco finally made his way back up the column of her neck, kissing every spot he encountered along the way, their mouths crashed together again. Met with an intense connection that neither dared to break, they kissed each other breathless.

She was overwhelmed with the sensation of things yet to come as he vigorously pushed himself against her body. She took a moment to explore the feel of him with her naturally inquisitive hands, gasping as she found his strong, well-toned back to be one of the most fascinating things she could ever remember touching. With a ragged breath that came from both of them to signal their need for air, he pushed up off of the bed to look down on her from a few inches away.

When he settled back on top of her with all of his weight, their now naked bodies lined up so perfectly that she shivered from all of the potential energy flowing between them. Nervousness crept back through her slowly as things took on a dreamy quality for a moment, the reality crashing back down on her lust-addled brain when her logical side recognized what came next. Hermione Granger was about to lose her virginity to Draco Malfoy in a house full of Death Eaters while faking being raped to avoid the clutches of some violent werewolf who wanted to tear her apart. The whole thing was a bit too much.

Sensing her distress, Draco began to kiss her again. Suddenly slower and gentler than moments before, she welcomed the drastic difference in pace since her body's responses seemed heightened to a dangerous degree.

"I'm sorry for this," he said as he firmly gripped her hip with one hand and eased himself in shallowly with the other. With a deep breath from them both, Hermione was thankful Draco wasted no time to build-up the event any further before pushing through her virginal resistance in one clean stroke, stilling immediately as their hips met completely.

"Oh gods, don't be sorry," she cried out, clinging to him tightly. "More!" she moaned in his ear, licking the side of his neck before pulling him in for another kiss. She knew it should have hurt; she was told that countless times by any number of gossiping girls in the Gryffindor dorms, but the pain was also so pleasant that Hermione thought that for once she must have missed something important.

How in the world did this feel so amazing? Was she so in need for physical contact after everything that had happened these months spent looking for Horcruxes that this was making her completely insane with desire? She didn't dare ask herself the one question which made the most sense to her logical mind, was it because it was with _him_ that made the situation much more erotic than it had any right to be?

She didn't know the answers to any of those questions, not having time to consider much else before the immense pleasure compounded with the first complete movement Draco made to withdraw himself before thrusting back into her body. With a startled cry, not knowing what else to do, Hermione gripped his shoulders and tried in vain to match his vigorous pace. The only thing she was sure of in this moment was not wanting to face the threat of ending this feeling of completeness too quickly.

Hermione was also enjoying his reactions to her way too much, oblivious to his internal struggles even though she noted the shockingly wild look in his eyes. She couldn't help but think of an old song her mother liked listening to on the radio, something about setting your soul on fire. That's what it looked like as she stared up at Draco, like there was some unreachable, unattainable knowledge existing in his eyes that even he wasn't aware of. It was mesmerizing.

Feeling impassioned by his penetrating silver gaze, Hermione lightly scraped her nails up from their spot on his lower back to his broad shoulders, her gaze never leaving his lusty eyes. He shuddered, loving the contradiction of her delicate fingers touching him so roughly, he whispered to her in a commanding moan, "Scratch me harder, Granger. It needs to look like you protested. Just do it again! Please!"

The "please" resulted in a howl of pleasure from Hermione, loving the vulnerability Draco had shown her so far, never having anticipated he would have such a genuine reaction with _her_ of all people. Despite the possibility he might have literally thrown her to the wolves at her first appeal for help, the brave Gryffindor inside of Hermione had forced her to try to save her friends and herself by any means necessary, despite the likeliness he would have laughed in her face for having the nerve to proposition him for sex. As luck would have it, she had been handsomely rewarded for taking that risk.

Complying with his demand, she savagely raked her nails down the path they had just travelled with a much more determined purpose. Finding purchase under her fingertips on the muscles just below his shoulder blades, she pressed her nails firmly into his skin there and dragged them harshly without letting up. He groaned loudly at the initial swipe of her nails as she clawed wildly at his alabaster skin. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before, an overflow of excess desire, an outlet for his pain. He loved every second of it.

Scared she had hurt him due to his vociferous growls, Hermione lightened the pressure until he huskily moaned in her ear for more. Again, at his insistence, Hermione did as he ordered without knowing why he was enjoying the pain so much. She was simply getting off on the idea of pleasing him so much, aside from the intensity in which he began pounding into her because of it.

In truth, Draco was only partially stating the motivation for his request. Yes, the other Death Eaters would likely expect it, and he always found sex to be more satisfying with a rougher type of energy involved, something which was never experienced with his Hogwarts conquests. But there was so much more lying underneath the surface that Hermione had quite literally just begun to scratch. Everything had really changed for him the first moment she touched him, culminating in an eruption of emotions Draco had tried to suppress since he decided it was a necessary means of survival.

Draco had found her initial massaging of his sore neck muscles sobering, bitterly recognizing her compassionate touch to be the first sensation he had experienced in years that wasn't drowned in unrelenting numbness. Ever since the Dark Lord had tasked Draco with killing Dumbledore he had started compartmentalizing everything he did, shrinking himself further and further into a cramped corner in his mind until he was so completely disconnected from all emotion that physical pain had ceased to exist for him as well.

In the absence of pain, fear began to follow, and then soon after went everything else too – anything still remotely good in him was lost, corrupt. There was no more emotion left in him, no excitement or sadness, only static hollowness. Apparently if you have no fear then there is nothing that is left that holds much value, assessing your love by the intensity with which you want the things you care for to remain yours. He had become a soulless marionette with a maniac puppeteer and there was nothing he could do but play his part, giving in to the insane direction of the Dark Lord.

The seduction the Dark Arts presented before he joined the Death Eaters never gave him a moment of pause. Initially Draco enjoyed it all: the praise and prestige, being included in a group so feared by those he had been taught were beneath him. The most substantial allure of all had come from the recognition the young man had received from the Dark Lord himself, a wizard so notoriously powerful who had taken a specific interest in _him_, Draco Malfoy. After years spent being overshadowed by the Golden Trio, even in the eyes of his own father to some extent, Draco thought he had finally been given a chance to claim one defining moment for his own, an opportunity to be infamous like the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die.

"Harry Potter", the bane of Draco's existence, had unknowingly become a permanent fixture in the Malfoy home. His nagging presence was a consummate reminder of the Malfoy family's failure to successfully return the Dark Lord to power. It was this fact that drove Draco to search for a niche in the world that he could consider all his own, seeing as how his father inhibited that ability from the beginning. In the end, Draco had concluded that since Dumbledore backed Potter, then he could be the Dark Lord's right hand man.

But Draco had been wrong about so very many things, having withdrawn from the whole world to the point that he had severely fallen out of favor with the rest of the Death Eaters who occupied his once stately home, as well as every "friend" he had ever made. That was until tonight, however, when Hermione had taken an interest in helping him hide his moral defection from the Dark Lord's cause. Her healing touch followed by her soulful kiss was everything he knew it could be - giving and passionate in ways he had never known firsthand. It was enough to consume his hatred for everything his world had become, enough to revive his awareness of everything he still wanted in his life that seemed unattainable only hours before.

Feeling something as pure as Hermione's compassionate spirit was truly blissful to Draco. It awakened something deep down inside him that he thought his father had snuffed out long ago. That was the reason he wanted to hurt, to feel pain. It was like coming back to life. The pain was very pleasurable, cleansing to his spirit as it awoke his own desire for more than playing into his position as his disgraced father's indentured lackey. He was exhilarated by their kissing, her touches, and his humanity being redeemed by the profound revelation that he wanted to get out of his dismal situation at all cost.

Only a moment had passed since he demanded she claw at him again even though it seemed like an eternity to his preoccupied mind. She knew she had been successful in breaking his skin like he obviously wanted as soon as he thrust even harder, thrilled with the pleasurable pain her passionate scratches evoked, he was brought back to the moment fully.

She enjoyed his roughness just as much, moving her hips in time with his as she gritted her teeth before teasing him. "You kinky bastard, you liked that didn't you?"

"Merlin, yes, I loved it. Do it again, Granger!" he demanded forcefully, miraculously keeping his voice low enough that any eavesdroppers wouldn't hear. Hermione reacted impulsively, loving the genuine pleasure she was able to elicit from him just before he kissed her again. He was brutal in his assault of her mouth, their teeth scraping as their lips crashed together.

Pulling away, he reverently whispered in her ear, "I always knew it would be like this with you. I've always wanted this with you. I always knew… just amazing."

"Oh Merlin, I love it. Please… more, Draco." After that, Hermione could do little more than moan in both pleasure and agreement, writhing beneath him as he aggressively made love to her with more passion than should have been possible. Between his surprisingly affectionate kissing and stroking of her face as his thrusts took on a more frenzied pace, it was easy to overlook what brought them together in this fashion. Indulging in desires which were evidently present in them both, they made the most of the situation by letting out all of the pent up feelings they had held for each other over the years.

Lost to the unquenchable craving for each other, they had forgotten their circumstances, both abruptly faced with their cruel reality when many heavy footsteps could be heard coming in their direction. Unsure if Draco heard the imminent arrival of several Death Eaters about to enter, Hermione tugged his hair harshly, finally getting his attention as he slowed his movements a little, never stopping completely.

"Even though I'm enjoying this very much, you know you're going to have to make it… oh-oh… look like you're hurting me now. I won't hold it against you, I promise. Just… make it convincing… Aaaah and if it helps, I like you being rough anyway," she added with a chuckle that turned into a low moan as he began very slow, deliberate thrusts in and out, savoring the last moments he had her all to himself.

Where he ordinarily would have returned her comment with a teasing remark and a smirk of his own, he looked so conflicted. To her surprise, he stilled himself and whispered quietly in her ear. "I don't want you to hate me for being the monster they expect to see. I'm sorry."

As they lazily continued their previously frenzied exchange, knowing their bubble was about to burst, she gently tugged his earlobe. She was trying to remind him of when she had touched his neck and back for the first time which seemed like a lifetime ago after everything that happened between them. With her hand cupping his ear to keep their exchange quiet, she reassured, "I'm trusting you to do this, Draco. Remember you are saving us – both of us. Do whatever its going to take to get me back with my friends and… try to keep yourself alive if you can help it too, would you please?"

He looked deeply into her eyes as if to convey more than any spoken words were able, and just before he was able to articulate his sentiments precisely, the sound of the door creaking open interrupted their "special" moment. Whispers and comments from the hallway invaded the room, but were quickly silenced as the Death Eaters looming ominously in the doorway took in the scene. Seeing the two naked bodies on the bed with their own eyes proved Draco a loyal Death Eater, one who evidently did not care about their mudblood captive at all based on the way her clothes were strewn about as if he had ripped them off of her body in a frenzy.

With a single despondent look cast to Hermione, he assumed his role completely, setting his cruel mask back upon his face. Upon hearing the commotion rise again, Draco looked over his shoulder and growled at the crowd of perverts which clearly had every intention of watching their coupling from the door. Even without their attempt to enter, their presence was such a palpable intrusion that they may as well have come to stand around the bed to get front row seats.

Those who thought him incapable and unworthy of his status under the Dark Lord were disappointed to see that he had gone through with it. Their groans of frustration that the younger Malfoy would not be murdered on this occasion were drowned out completely by Bellatrix's squeal of deranged delight as the door suddenly slammed shut with a resounding thud, muffling the noise once again.

Of course the Death Eaters didn't know it was consensual, a plot between the pair to aid their survival, especially after seeing the bloody gashes trailing down the blond teen's back from his "victim's" sharp nails. They had truly staged a convincing scene quite incidentally, and Hermione was about to breathe a sigh of relief at the sound of the door closing when she realized they were not alone in the room. For some reason, someone had lingered.

**A/N:** I don't make money from these characters or concepts, but will happily accept reviews on this story as compensation. Let me know if you have a question. I'd be happy to answer. :)

And a special thanks to all those who have reviewed! You have made me smile like a mad fool!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: There is a bit more violence in this chapter, but please keep in mind that Hermione and Draco had agreed to this ahead of time.

**Forgiving Fate**

*Chapter 3*

Lost in a sea of over-stimulated confusion as Draco began very slow, deliberate thrusts while being mindful of the remaining Death Eater near the door, Hermione almost forgot her role and begged for him to move faster. After a few moments of awkward posturing, however, an off-kilter voice brusquely announced from somewhere in the room, "No need to stop on my account. Please… continue."

Draco nodded dumbly, making an effort to appear unaffected as he began to move with a concerted effort to convey apparent aggression. Overcome with too much stimuli, Hermione wasn't sure who the peeping tom was, but she was certain that the person's sanity was barely intact judging from the detached quality of their voice. There was something crazed present from their aura in the room alone. After the watcher took a single step closer, Draco instantly tensed every muscle in his body, almost as though he was expecting a blow to his vulnerable, exposed back, a hit which thankfully never came.

Having clearly recognized the identity of the person who stayed behind without a glance in their direction, Hermione became suspicious as to what Draco believed was about to happen to them. The tone in which the voyeur's order was given was meant as much more than just idle commentary. The threat was palpable since the person intruding on the already awkward scene evidently expected a convincing show and had voiced his desires accordingly.

Chancing a quick look over the shoulder of the nervous man sweating above her from more than just their intense session, Hermione was able to catch a glimpse of the long white-blond hair of the voyeur. Even without that clue, Draco's stunned reaction alone made it apparent that Lucius Malfoy had come to his son's room for some perverse form of entertainment. As if a switch was flipped by the sound of his father's voice repeating his earlier "request", Draco mouthed a silent apology to her a moment before he viciously slammed his hips forward in a quick successive rhythm.

With no need to pretend any longer, she wailed in both shock and hurt. Her scream was real as Draco began pushing into her body in a very different way than he had been prior; her tearful reaction to his hammering assault was unmistakable evidence of the true pain in opposition to the ecstasy from a minute before. The instant look of worry on Draco's face had her concerned he would lessen his attack and vicariously give away their deception. They had gone too far to turn back now. Putting on the best show of Gryffindor bravery she could muster, she egged him on in the only way she could think.

Knowing his father expected violence, she tugged his earlobe again before grazing the spot behind Draco's ear as a silent reminder of her previous assurances. Urging him to continue, she roughly pinched his nipple out of Lucius' view, nodding her head slightly to make sure he understood what he had to do. Draco picked up on her cue, maintaining his forcefulness as she clawed at his back again.

This seemed to instantly snap him back into the correct mindset to play up his dominant role, almost imperceptibly nodding in understanding before unexpectedly back-handing Hermione across the face as "punishment" for scratching him. "How dare you, you mudblood bitch?" he screamed in her face, giving Hermione terrible flashbacks of their historically volatile encounters over the years.

Even though he barely put any strength behind the hit, Hermione's cheek still stung, leaving a searing hot burn in the chilly room. As much as his smack pained her, it was the cruel words which hurt far worse. The simple slur was enough to fracture the gap she had started to bridge in her brain for the "Draco Malfoy" she felt she only just met today. She looked back into his eyes and instantly saw the same one she had learned to hate over the years. It was for the best, she supposed, considering the situation they were in, but it left Hermione feeling like a fool.

Perhaps the most striking thing of all was his quick change in demeanor. Hermione became slightly fearful that Malfoy had a split-personality as he grinned wickedly over his shoulder at his father who clearly approved of his son's mistreatment of her. Almost convinced she had been tricked earlier with the appearance of his softer character once he smacked her again for his father's benefit; his eyes finally locked back on hers, thankfully betraying the truth of his self-loathing for his brutality towards her.

She tried to disconnect herself from the scene at that point, but it was impossible to focus on anything but the fact that Lucius was inching closer to them. Standing an arm's reach from the bed, the elder Malfoy sneered, "Look what she did to you, son. She spilled your pure blood with her dirty hands. Punish her for her insolence, Draco."

With every comment, Draco would respond accordingly to his father's commands, but making it look like he was being far more vicious than he actually was. Hermione had to give him quite a bit of credit for his part in the ruse, his movements were so carefully controlled that even though he appeared unhinged to his demented father standing by the bedside, he was actually intensely passionate with her – aside from the initial slaps to prove himself to Lucius, of course.

Somehow, it was in this contradiction between unruly and deliberate that she couldn't help but climb towards an imminent moment of ecstasy, even with the senior Malfoy present. Aside from being "raped", which was closer to defining the current situation more than when they started, she was also being incidentally mind-fucked by her former enemy.

Although his words were cruel, a plethora of insults and disparaging remarks that his father wanted to hear, Draco was being so thoughtful, so incredibly careful in his treatment of her that she was mentally getting off from his sincere attentions alone. After everything they'd been through together over the years: the fighting, tormenting, and bullying, somehow the combination of physical pleasure she was experiencing coupled with his concerted effort in keeping them safe culminated in the imminence of her orgasm.

Her feeling pleasure from this experience was something she knew Lucius would find suspicious given her feigned protests the entire time he'd been in the room, but there seemed to be nothing she could do to avoid it. The more she tried to resist, the more her body disagreed. There was no imagery she could entertain, no visualizations of ugly or scary things that would deter her body from reacting in the way she surely would have without the sick, twisted audience of the elder Malfoy present.

Thankfully Draco knew his way around the female body well enough for both of them, picking up on the clues of what was about to happen a moment before she ruined their deceitful endeavor by screaming "Please don't stop!" or something equally as damning at the top of her lungs. She had heard having an orgasm during sex was like a blissful tidal wave, but again she must have misunderstood. There was nothing so whimsical or beautiful about this. This was a violent avalanche; the ground beneath her was coming apart at the seams, the Earth ready to return her body to dust.

Putting one hand over her mouth and the other loosely grasping her throat to appear as if he was choking her, he pressed into her at just the right angle that the whole world seemed to be obscured with bright white lights before tumbling into darkness all around her. "I'm sick of you screaming like you don't want this – like you don't want me. You love it and you know it, my little mudblood slut."

Ignoring the hateful words that were being spewed from his mouth, Hermione began to wonder briefly why Draco pretended to strangle her. She quickly realized it was to give her a moment to recover, almost blacking-out as a result of the foreign reactions which overtook her mind and body.

To Lucius it probably appeared she had been screaming out in pain or crying out for help, but Hermione took solace that Draco knew better. For a split second before she closed her eyes to "succumb" to being deprived of oxygen, his burning hot, liquid silver gaze confirmed the satisfaction he felt from what he was able to accomplish under the dire circumstances. It was a shame that things had been interrupted by Lucius. Although they had been forced into the situation initially, she had been extremely content with the results before the Death Eater showed up.

Feeling a whirlwind of emotions and a prickle of tears about to form from being emotionally overloaded, she allowed her head to loll to the side as if rendered unconscious in the way she should have been if Draco's grip on her neck had been real. Hermione remained as still as possible as she felt his pace quicken, knowing he was near completion.

She was content to stay in her blissful, post-orgasmic haze until she heard the unmistakable murmurings of an incantation coming from Lucius. Acutely aware of the danger inherent in the elder Malfoy's softly spoken words, Hermione discreetly opened her eyes. Though her view of Lucius was blocked, she could hear his voice clearly now, the ominous tone enhanced the fact the foreign words were unrecognizable to her.

She watched in abject horror as Draco's grayish-blue eyes turned cerulean, glowing bright with magic while he moved above her, seemingly unaware of whatever was happening to him. Lucius' sinister smile didn't need to be seen by Hermione to be inferred by the satisfied sound of his voice as he continued his spell using a language she had never heard before. By the time Lucius was done, Draco's eyes seemed illuminated by a light as intense as the sun, and with a final thrust and resounding groan her oblivious lover collapsed on top of her in complete exhaustion.

Confused by whatever just occurred due to Lucius' undoubtedly sinister machinations, she fought the sensation of her head clouding. It was as if her concerns were suddenly mollified, her perception of the danger altered. Although she knew it, it was futile to fight the magic which surrounded her; so she didn't.

Instead, Hermione happily welcomed the full weight of Draco's body crushing her into the luxuriously plush mattress. After everything they had just experienced, the extent they had gone to help each other in the most inconspicuous way possible despite the danger, it felt undeniably right that he was sated and content. It was almost as if it was the only thing that mattered to Hermione anymore, something the last logical bit of her mind registered as disturbing. A flicker of worry passed through her with that thought, wondering if she was developing an extremely rapid case of Stockholm Syndrome.

It was difficult to determine what happened next with her eyes locked tightly shut again. Her brain was still slightly dulled from lingering feelings of euphoria, but all heavenly cloudiness of her Draco-obsessed mind cleared the moment Lucius ran his hand up her side and teased the edge of her breast. Since she was still trapped underneath Draco's heavier body, ignorant to his father's malicious groping, all she could do was clench her eyes shut tightly in refusal to acknowledge the situation for as long as possible.

Though Hermione was repulsed, she knew she couldn't squirm away from the unwanted touching. Even with her eyes clamped shut her body became hyper-aware of her surroundings the moment she recognized the strange fingers roaming her delicate skin. She wondered briefly what the elder Malfoy was doing, as he seemed to be examining her. It was then she realized Lucius was indeed appraising her body, looking for the extent of damage inflicted by his son during the act to better evaluate his performance.

The thought of being scrutinized in such a callous manner caused her body to tense and Draco to push himself up onto his elbows to understand her sudden jumpy condition. It was then that he saw what his father was doing to Hermione. Surprised he hadn't noticed the closeness of his father's wandering hand mere inches from his own body, the appalled young man flinched, instantly moving away.

Draco's reflexive jolt vicariously exposed more of Hermione's prone form on the bed beneath him to Lucius' gaze. Without wasting a moment, the elder Malfoy immediately seized the opportunity and squeezed her now fully uncovered breast. With a cruel gleam in his eyes, Draco watched in impotent outrage as his father purposely inflicted enough pain to force Hermione's eyes open. Although it seemed like she tried to fight it as best she could, Lucius had simply dug his fingernails even deeper into her soft skin. The result was a painful-looking collection of crescent shaped cuts around the edge of her breast that were horrible for Draco to even look at let alone for Hermione to experience.

As she winced, her teary eyes were met with a sadistically amused smile at the unsuccessful attempt to ignore the presence of her tormentor. With a sneer, Lucius mumbled almost to himself, "Such a pretty, filthy little mudblood."

Draco, torn between his Death Eater obligation and his newfound respect for the woman still lying partially beneath him, wasn't sure what recourse he had in the moment. He desperately wanted to force his father's hands away, feeling a great deal of righteous possessiveness which he wasn't sure was a result of some latent feelings for his rival or the fact that he just had sex with her. Either way, Draco knew his father spitefully touching Hermione like that felt like one of the greatest tragedies he had ever been a party to, especially when, in the end, he knew he would do nothing to stop it due to his own cowardice.

Casting his eyes anywhere but the sick bastard fondling the helpless victim in his bed, Draco moved away from his father to the farther side of the bed. Still partially on top of Hermione, tucked between her body and the wall, he used a blanket to cover his lower body and subsequently hers too. He only had to hope his father didn't realize Draco had done it intentionally to preserve as much of Hermione's modesty as he was still able. It was the least he could do.

For reasons he could not understand, when Hermione sought out a modicum of comfort in a glance at Draco he noted the odd, ethereal brightness in her deep cinnamon-colored eyes. Somehow there was strong magic circulating throughout her body, evident in the intense glowing gaze shining from her eyes as she fixated on his. Before Draco had time to consider the implications of a spell having taken place without his knowing, his father demanded his full attention with the arrogant clearing of his throat.

"Given your distaste for this particular mudblood you did surprisingly well taking ownership of your new toy, certainly better than I had anticipated given your disappointing behavior as of late. Though it is advantageous you seemed to enjoy her, the most important thing is that you stake proper claim on your whore before someone else gets the chance. Crabbe and Goyle were downstairs moments ago squabbling over who would get her had you failed to put her in her proper place, saying she was too valuable to be wasted on scum like Greyback."

Without removing his wandering hand, Lucius made his way over to Hermione's other breast before cruelly pinching her nipple until silent tears began to stream from her eyes. Fearing what debauchery might come next from his lascivious father's attentions, Draco tried to redirect Lucius' focus. "Father, Aunt Bella gave her to me," Draco announced, feigning petulance, willing his voice not to catch in his throat. "How is her ownership up for debate by those two fools? She's mine."

"No need to concern yourself with the folly of others, son, I will make certain she stays. She will serve a much greater purpose here than simple sexual gratification. Although… after seeing how much fun you had with her… I have my suspicions that she will indeed spend much of her time either on her back or on her knees anyway," Lucius jested mirthfully while letting a single finger slide along Hermione's ribs, outlining each one with surgical precision. "Fitting for someone like her, wouldn't you say?"

Although Draco smirked at his father's cruel words in the way Lucius would expect, his father had no idea that it was Hermione's quick pinch on his upper thigh that made him react at all. Without her quick thinking, the younger Malfoy would have been stunned into silence, unable to comprehend what was happening. Despite his disgust with his father in that moment, he could not help but be impressed with the bravery of Gryffindor's resident Princess. He would never understand how even now while she was being manhandled by his deranged dad that she still found a way to be courageous, a way to make sure they were both going to survive this.

"Yes, very fitting, Father. While I would like nothing more than to keep her chained to my bed at all times, I think the best thing we could do to instill the proper fear in our other captives would be to put her back in the dungeon with the blood-traitor and the ugly bloke with whom she arrived. They will…"

"Draco, do you honestly think me such a fool?" Lucius said forcefully. "I am well aware that Potter is in the basement, as I'm certain you are as well. However, I have no idea why you would continue with this farce in my presence," he said disappointedly. "Regardless, now that you've fully partaken in his mudblood best friend's body, parading her around in front of him is exactly what I had in mind as well. Well done, son."

Afraid of what it meant that Lucius knew Harry was there, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that Draco was sticking to their agreement by getting her returned to her friends relatively unharmed. She was thankful she had trusted him initially, never having thought it possible to ever consider him an ally prior to an hour ago.

Her momentary triumph crumbled the moment Lucius spoke again, disrupting the plan she had envisioned when she had been dragged through the Malfoys' home to await a fate left in the hands of her enemy. "I think we need to assert our claim on her in a more obvious way before she is returned to Potter, hopefully to regale him in a fantastically detailed report of her brutal mistreatment, hmm?" he taunted, twisting Hermione's nipple so hard she yelped.

Again, Draco tried to deflect Lucius' assault, this time without hesitation. Seeing an opportunity to keep Hermione away from his father's rough hands, he slid his own body more directly over hers. Protectively, he covered her as best he could before addressing his father with a fake smirk of cruelty, one to match the patriarch's own. "What did you have in mind, Father? I could definitely go for a second round."

Lucius' sadistic grin gave the entwined couple chills, but before his father could respond the door opened to reveal the horrified face of someone Draco would have never wanted to see under these conditions. To Draco's utter disbelief given their present company, Lucius kept his hands firmly planted on Hermione's body, making his intentions to continue clear despite the disgusted expression of the new arrival.

"What have you done, Lucius?" Narcissa screamed. "You monster, you've turned our son into a rapist! Draco…" his mother sobbed, unable to complete her thought.

"Relax, Cissy, it isn't anything like that. The girl wanted it, she begged him in fact. Isn't that right, pet?"

With a squeeze to her upper arm so sharp Hermione screamed out the only answer she could think to get Lucius to release his grip. "Yes… yes! I begged Draco! I begged him!"

"Ever the opportunistic little witch, this manipulative mudblood saw an opportunity to exploit our son's weaker constitution towards women. An affliction you are solely responsible for by the way, Cissy. Affection and coddling causes the stock to suffer, I told you that repeatedly but you persisted in hugging him as a child. Nevertheless, the Order has evidently become aware that after the Dark Lord fully rises to power he plans to outlaw marriage. In order to forego allegiance falling to anyone besides himself," Lucius said reverently, "And to promote the lack of vulnerability being burdened by marriage creates," his voice turned sour, his face contorted in accusation as he continued, "Loyal Death Eaters will be allowed a mudblood slave to use for their pleasure. Procreation between purebloods will be done under the Dark Lord's discretion to ensure loyalty and selective breeding to the utmost. The mudblood knew how desirable a trophy she would make, so she coerced Draco. Isn't that right, pet?"

With a scathing glare for her captor, Hermione nodded before shutting her eyes, hating the look of contempt on Narcissa's face as she seemed believed the unrepentant man's false words. With a calculated look at her son, the protective mother wanted answers. "And why exactly is everyone after this particular mudblood?"

"From what I've been told by the incessantly envious Crabbe, this little slag is the brains behind the success of The-Boy-Who-Refuses-To-Die, the reason Potter's luck has yet to run out. And from what has been explained to their fathers by the blithering idiots Draco goes to school with, having the mudblood away from Potter's side would be a detrimental blow to his annoying resistance to death. Therefore, possession of this mudblood is important to reinstating our proper spot under the Dark Lord.

"It is actually quite fortuitous that Bella gave her to Draco, a fortunate happenstance as it were. Aside from how feisty this little mudblood is, making her far more fun to break than some droll little muggle, she has very specific qualities few others possess. Once news of her capture spreads she will be sought after due to her association with Potter and high standing within the Order of the Phoenix. She will be the crown jewel of the Malfoy possessions since so many people have already shown an interest in acquiring her. Isn't that what you had in mind, pet? Using our son to secure your own safety, a chance to exploit our generosity?"

"Yes," Hermione gritted out through clenched teeth, Lucius never having removed his controlling grasp as his sharp nails once again began to puncture her skin in a fresh spot on her arm. "I begged him to take me so I didn't end up with Crabbe or Goyle, or someone even worse like that animal Greyback."

"See Narcissa, we were being gracious in allowing her into our home even after she tricked our hazardously sentimental son. I also thought it was quite magnanimous of me considering this little bitch helped secure my incarceration after that fiasco in the Department of Mysteries. I actually already did the first part of the binding so we can keep her with less interference."

"What?!" Everyone in the room besides Lucius yelled. With a threatening glare, the elder Malfoy silenced the questions of his family members with just a look before smacking Hermione hard in the mouth for daring to speak at all.

With a satisfied smirk as a bead of blood trickled from the middle of Hermione's swollen bottom lip, Lucius continued, "I wanted to make sure none of the others got a chance to claim her first. She will be Draco's pet… to keep, to break, to fuck."

"Why are _you_ touching her then?" Narcissa asked indignantly, the jealous note to her voice lost on no one.

"Well, I am still the head of this household. If I want to play with her too then I intend to without interference from you."

"This is too much… oh Merlin, help me," Narcissa yelled before running out the door. The silence was only dwarfed by the harsh intakes of Hermione's breath echoing against the cold gray walls and the room's other two still unmoving inhabitants.

"Draco," Lucius said, turning to his son with an imposing glare. "I think your mother is more upset about your involvement with the mudblood than mine. Go console her while I finish attending to this whore's disobedient mouth."

"Father…?" Draco trailed off, unable to finish his statement but knowing he did not want to leave Hermione alone with the lecherous man he once considered his idol. Though careful to keep his reaction from skewing his features, Draco was panicking.

"Now, son, go to her before your mother runs into someone of consequence and earns a punishment more appropriate for your pet here. We wouldn't want that now, would we?"

"No, Father," Draco said, lowering his gaze to the floor as he extricated himself from Hermione and the bed. Gathering his clothing without sparing her a look, too afraid of seeing the loathing for him she was undoubtedly filled with as he abandoned her on the orders of this cruel man whose sinister intentions were clear, Draco dressed in a great haste.

"And Draco," Lucius drawled dangerously as his son began to pull on his dragon-hide shoes. "Before you leave, I want you to clean up the evidence of your activities with this Mudblood thoroughly… with these." Lucius placed Hermione's shredded lilac-colored panties into Draco's hand. "Place the garment in the ritual chalice on the table when you're finished." Conjuring an ornate gilded goblet, Lucius placed it on the nightstand before he began to unfasten his robes next to the bed. All the while maintaining eye contact with Hermione, who was shaking on the bed and watching in terror while the father commanded his son, Lucius began to grin.

She was torn, wanting to look away from Lucius' cruel smile but terrified to meet Draco's remorseful eyes for fear she would begin to weep. Instead she let her anger steel her resolve, meeting Lucius' eyes like a dare, a challenge to her Gryffindor sensibilities. It didn't help much; Hermione had quickly become unnerved by his stare, intimidated solely from his chilling gray eyes even before he began to discard his outer robes as if expecting to exert himself. As his gaze roamed her naked body freely, her scream of revulsion was deafening, but completely in her mind as she internally fought a war to remain still despite her protests to fight.

"Restrain her… but do not cover her, I think I prefer her naked. And do hurry, Draco, I must make certain to tend to her insolent mouth before she forgets that a pet never speaks to her Master out of turn." Innuendo laced threats were Lucius Malfoy's strong suit and Draco knew to hurry about his task due to the dangerous lilt to his father's voice, aggravating him further would only lead to a harsher punishment for Hermione.

Negating his icy tone, she knew whatever Lucius had in mind did not bode well for her just by the sadistic amusement he was exuding into the room. He was enjoying his unfettered ability to dominate the two teens in the room with simply the power of his voice which wordlessly promised something far worse for non-compliance. As much as she may have enjoyed the sexual deception with Draco, Hermione had no interest in being made the poster-child for this Death Eater's claim of supremacy and sense of entitlement.

Despite every instinct she had to try to fight, to run, Hermione knew there was nothing she could do to get out of this situation intact. Everything Draco had just done would have been for nothing if they were found out at this point. In a way she now had the reluctant teenage Death Eater's fate in her hands since any abrupt behavior now would likely expose him as a traitor in front of his own father. She couldn't help but think that her cohort knew that too, as he leaned in close and used a gentle caress behind her ear to remind her to play her part just as he had done.

Draco methodically finished his task of cleaning her off, awkwardly wiping away the evidence of their coupling, the proof of her lost virginity. Something was happening which Hermione didn't understand the importance of, yet knew enough to be suspicious of the situation given the precision of Lucius' instructions. The fact that the Death Eater had already bound her to Draco in some way did nothing to mitigate Hermione's doubt that Lucius' objectives with "owning her" were still far from sated.

With a sad look of resignation, he placed the soiled garment in the ritual cup. Draco then pointed his wand at Hermione and closed his eyes tightly, as if wishing away a reality that was too disturbing to witness. "Incarcerous," he muttered quietly, his eyes conveying his confliction as they opened to watch Hermione become bound and tethered by strong silvery cords. They circled her body instantly, pinning her elbows and wrists tightly to her sides, lashing her legs together at the knees and ankles like a securely wrapped cocoon.

Hermione noted how soft the binding ropes were, an adjustment that Draco must have made as he projected the spell. It was oddly comforting that he made that small concession for her, although the fact that she was still being confined while trapped in a room with a lunatic muted those feeling from becoming too warm and fuzzy. Somehow the dilemma she could see etched in Draco's face distracted her from feeling her abounding fears for a moment. He was now in a far more complicated situation than when he entered the room to find her on his bed. His pain now ran much deeper, a more convoluted mess of confliction and contempt. If Hermione wasn't so frightened for her own well-being she would have cried for Draco's tragically torn and tattered soul.

With one last look over his shoulder at his father, he saw the older man remove his belt with a disgusting smirk spreading like Fiendfyre across his face while staring fixatedly at the now subdued captive. Disgusted and helpless to stop him, Draco quickly fled the room in search of _anything_ to take his mind off of _everything_ that was happening in the world around him that he was incapable of controlling.

He knew he had to seek out his mother as his father ordered, but he wasn't sure what he would say after he found her. Watching Narcissa's behavior towards Hermione, completely in deference to his lying bastard of a father, Draco wasn't sure the woman offered the same solace for him anymore. Of course he loved her just the same, but Draco couldn't help but wonder how complicit his mother had been in all the horrors they had suffered over the years. He couldn't blame her completely, not after personally being forced into similar circumstance through varying degrees of coercion, but he had at least hoped she knew the truth of things even if she knowingly acted in opposition of it.

"If you insist on keeping that girl in my home perhaps the dungeon would be a more appropriate place so I am not forced to look at her. I don't need a constant reminder of how weak your father's will is towards filthy mudblood girls. They bewitch him somehow, and now you as well it seems. Just leave me be, Draco. I need some rest," his mother said when he finally managed to corral her into a rarely used guest room.

Any fracture in apparent loyalty to your Pureblood family could cause undue notice by the other Death Eaters, resulting in being ostracized and scapegoated in front of the Dark Lord at every turn. Draco knew very well what a terribly desolate place it was to find yourself in that purgatory after his Astronomy Tower failure. Draco didn't want his mother to be punished as a result of some carelessly spoken words bandied about in anger, so he decided not to argue with her assumptions and let her be.

Giving the decision only a moment of pause, disillusioned by her attitude, he left his distraught mother lying on the bed staring at the ceiling like she wished it would crumble and crush her beneath it. There was clearly more happening between Narcissa and her lecherous husband that their son was unaware, but confronting his mother now would only lead to more potential problems for the Malfoys. After all, they were veritable prisoners in their own home now, serving a lunatic leader who would sacrifice them all without qualm.

With his mother tended to, his focus was firmly set on interfering with his father's abuse of Hermione while being mindful to watch his own back. Draco began strategizing as he quickly started off in the direction of his room again, hoping to interrupt before anything too severe had taken place. His feet had been carrying him swiftly, but his mind and body stopped working the moment a shrill scream battered his ears. It definitely came from the direction he was already travelling, so similar to the sounds of Bellatrix's torture of Hermione earlier that his mind had no other option but to assume she was in fact the source of the pained cries once again.

Finally his body reacted to the warning bells that were going off in his brain. He ran to his bedroom and threw himself at the door without bothering to portray his usual pretense of indifference. Despite his haste, Draco hadn't completely entered the room when his shock and disgust had overwhelmed him, freezing his movements within the doorway.

With the smell of something burning clouding his senses, he was somehow still keenly aware of the heady aroma of sex and blood clinging to the air. Draco was finally gifted with the ability to move once more, looking at his father with enough malice in his glare that his clipped tone made it seem like the livid young man was simply waiting for an incendiary spark to ignite the fuse he felt in his soul. "What have you done, father?" he demanded icily, slamming the door behind him.

"I will excuse your tone just this once, Draco, assuming you will better control any possessiveness you feel towards _our_ new pet in the future. This will not be an allowance I will grant you again, so I strongly suggest you mind your manners, _Son._" Lucius was seething, out of breath and looking positively gleeful in his sadism as he triumphantly clutched his coiled belt in his hand. The snake head of the leather strap seemed to taunt Draco, the emerald eyes staring at him as his father turned to face him fully.

Draco was thankful Lucius was still dressed as he had been before he left, but something in his gut told the younger Malfoy that a profound event had taken place in his absence. He could feel it like a soul-crushing embrace which lacked explanation as to its cause but didn't alter the pressure the weight created upon him.

Stumbling forward towards the center of the room, disoriented and desperate, Draco regarded his father without fully taking his eyes off of the poor young woman he had been forced to leave behind. "Forgive me, _Father, _but you said… she was to be mine to break," Draco stated shakily, his body trembling as much as his voice as he took in the sight of Hermione wearing layer after layer of thick, bright red welts along her bare back and bottom. She was bent over the side of the bed with her face buried so deeply into the fluffy feather duvet that Draco wondered if she had suffocated as she had yet to move since he'd returned.

"I am the head of this household, Draco. I am entitled. Besides, are you really so selfish as to deny your father the indulgence of such a tempting treat? I quite agree with your Aunt Bella's expectations for this mudblood. I fully intend to see the rest of her body is as sullied as her filthy blood by the end of the day, and I'm not sure you will have the ability to do it on your own."

Feeding into a deeply masochistic part of himself, Draco tried not to concentrate on exactly what else his father intended to do as he stepped towards Hermione's battered form. It was difficult to ignore, but he didn't even want to think about the hand-print shaped bruises he could see forming on her body. With a shudder, he allowed himself a second to wonder which ones were created from either his own hands or those of his father. Nauseated by the similarity in size, the fact he couldn't decipher a difference between his own marks made during his sexual encounter with Hermione or those which came about from Lucius' violent games afterwards, Draco barely noticed his father draw his new wand from the pushed up sleeve of his charcoal gray dress shirt.

With a flicker of fear, Draco stepped back, unsure of his father's plans. Lucius, seemingly unaware of his son's trepidation with his abrupt movements, transfigured a metal stick which sat at the foot of the bed back into his cane. Draco realized what he had seen but not recognized until the item had morphed back into its true form. The long, thin black rod which usually concealed Lucius' serpent head-handled wand took the place of a branding iron which had sat in the same spot only a moment before.

"Father, have you branded her?" Draco asked, trying to sound unaffected but failing miserably as he tried to assess the damage.

"Of course, she is our trophy after all. We can use her to please the Dark Lord's desire to make Potter suffer through his friends. The added element of having her as _our_ personal possession is something we both know will cripple the feeble-minded boy. It will be the greatest insult to him; one I believe needed to be delivered swiftly and without the possibility of misinterpretation."

"I see," Draco replied hollowly.

"No need for sympathy. She happily accepted the Malfoy crest on her body. Didn't you, pet?" Lucius asked, scratching a line down her spine with one of his manicured fingernails, aggravating the already violent red skin.

"Yes," Hermione cried out as she struggled against the ropes Draco had used to bind her. The cords were viciously digging into her skin now as she yelped from Lucius' mistreatment. Excited that she had made some noise for the first time since Draco had rejoined them, Lucius moved a mess of unruly hair from Hermione's neck, revealing her brand for the first time to his son's eyes.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Lucius asked, harshly prodding the scorched skin at the base of her neck with his finger. The cruel sadist barely noticed as Draco made sure to avoid looking, finding a spot on the wall to fixate on instead. "I'm surprised you didn't hear her begging, Draco. It was such an arousing sound." Lucius sneered as he proudly appraised his family's insignia on her once more. "I think she's ready to go back to Potter now while we wait for the Dark Lord's arrival. Rest up, Pet. Your friends will be dead soon and I'm sure my son will want to show you off to his friends when they arrive this evening for the victory revel."

After Lucius moved away and started readjusting his clothing which had become rumpled due to the physicality of his punishment, Hermione began to flail wildly into the blood covered feather duvet, screaming into the sheets as she cried. Draco stood back, watching without a clue as to how to console her, especially with his father there. Deciding for now the only thing he could justify in his father's presence was removing the Incarcerous spell, he moved a bit closer.

Muttering the words "Finite Incantatem", Draco sat down on the edge of the bed in the same spot he had earlier when he was reluctant to touch her. He reached out a tentative hand and lightly brushed her tear-stained cheek with the back of his fingers. She scrambled away at first, whimpering at the contact as she collapsed on her other side with her fingers practically clawing at her ears. Draco knew it was an attempt to halt whatever vile words Lucius spoke while he was gone, cruel remarks which were undoubtedly still ringing in her mind the way they plagued his own.

Seeming to instinctually register the difference in the two men even from the slightest touch, her eyes sprang open just as soon as Draco withdrew his hand. After seeing it was him, she crawled over to him, broken down in body and spirit as she fell to her knees with her head in his lap. Draco hated that his father had done this to her. Whatever it was that had torn her so thoroughly apart since last he'd seen her was a scary prospect to inquire about, but one he felt was necessary to explore without his father watching.

"Oh, Draco," Hermione wept, her face nuzzling his thigh. Even after how familiar he had become with her body during their previous encounter, he wasn't sure where to place his hands on her exposed, battered skin, not wanting to be the reason for additional tears. To Draco's dismay, she began to explain before Lucius was able to vacate the room. "He tricked us. We are… we're… you'll…"

"Stupefy," Lucius said after crossing the distance from the door to the bed in three long strides. He pressed his wand into Hermione's back, barely allowing the red light which usually accompanied the spell to be seen to Draco's horrified eyes. Hermione's movements immediately stilled, the force of Lucius' spell rendering her completely unconscious in an instant. Draco couldn't fathom whatever information Hermione was about to reveal which caused his father's irate reaction, but it was clearly something sensitive that Lucius wanted to control.

Looking at his son's bewildered face, Lucius explained with a malevolent sneer, "I will make sure you stay true to our cause, Draco. Consider the welfare of your new pet the next time you attempt to deceive or undermine the Dark Lord as you did earlier with that stunt with Potter. If our side was to lose then this mudblood will be returned to our enemy. You wouldn't have access to her anymore, and I have made sure that will be a very difficult scenario for you to handle."

"The binding? Father, what was it? What did you do?"

"Very old, very strong magic. The binding I performed will cause you quite a lot of pain if you don't have unrestricted access to her, something that I think you will only be able to ensure if you fight for the Dark Lord with a bit more fervent dedication. I will remove the bind after our side wins and you've proven your worth, of course. That way I can keep her for myself, as was my intention the moment the delicious little mudblood was dragged through the front gate. I get what I want, Draco, one way or another. It will serve you well to remember that lesson in the future."

Lucius left with a flourish, taking the still burning chalice with him. Draco didn't know what spell his father cast, but there was little doubt in his mind it was powerful. He could already feel the effects, the unrelenting pull to Hermione. It was undeniable, just the thought of her back in the basement with her friends, a place he couldn't very well stay, made his skin crawl.

It was irrelevant, however. He made her a promise, and when she woke up she would find herself with Potter and the Weasel. He wanted to believe she would come to forgive him his failures, though he would understand considering what his cowardice cost her. The desire to keep her, to protect her had to be put aside for the moment. Instead Draco focused on redressing her to guard her modesty, knowing his father would be angry when he saw her clothed after he commanded otherwise. Draco didn't care anymore. He'd seen too much.

Whatever Lucius was planning to do to Hermione next promised to be even more severe, the possibilities of which gave Draco the chills. He didn't mind the pain his father promised would accompany separation from Hermione, at least he could feel something again and that was all thanks to her anyway. He owed it to the brave, unconscious woman he held in his arms. Draco knew he had to at least try to help her while the opportunity presented itself.

Strategizing quickly, there was only one thing he could attempt to pull off without risking his own life or that of his mother. His only hope was that the individual he needed would answer his call considering all the cruelty he had suffered in the past under the roof of Malfoy Manor.

**A/N:** I don't make money from these characters or concepts, but will happily accept reviews on this story as compensation. :)

Next Time: We jump ahead a month and see the aftermath of the events which transpired at Malfoy Manor.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: There is a bit of a time jump here and Hermione is a bit out of character at this point. I think it's understandable since she's been having quite a rough time. Personally, I like her this way. Hope you all agree.

Anyway, I am going to use the timeline from the movie in that soon after the trio escaped from Malfoy Manor they broke into Gringotts and consequently went to Hogwarts for the battle soon after. Just wanted to clear that up.

**Forgiving Fate**

*Chapter 4 – A little over a month post Harry's defeat of Voldemort*

Hermione Granger growled in frustration the moment her eyes opened, the sun's rays peeking through her curtains to ruining the fleeting remnants of what was already a fitful night's sleep. Glaring at the baby pink walls of her bedroom, now adorned with an assortment of bright rainbow-colored butterflies and tiny flowers, she kicked her legs as if in a tantrum. It wasn't enough that her dreams were filled with terrified screams, of images twisted with the horrors of battle and visions of people taking their last breaths, but being confronted with the bitter reality of the situation she had selfishly caused every morning when she awoke to this girly nightmare left her disgusted beyond reason.

Lying atop her bed, Hermione surveyed her room with a sigh, contritely remembering how the childish décor was actually her fault even if it was done by her mother's hands. After finding her parents in Australia, a team of specialists from St. Mungo's spent several days slowly readjusting the Grangers' memories. Her father, though upset with the decision his daughter reached without his consent, recovered his identity with relative ease. He yelled at her of course, all the while embracing her tightly, angry and relieved to have her back all at the same time.

Unfortunately what happened with Hermione's mother was something no one could have anticipated. Had she known the torment it would cause the poor woman she loved so dearly Hermione would have left both her parents alone to lead their new lives in peace, even if that was without her. Instead, she selfishly had their memories adjusted as soon as the Order deemed it safe enough, wanting to feel her parents' love once again without thinking of the consequences of a decision she had once again made on their behalf.

The moment the magic resolved, modifying the erasure Hermione had performed, she knew she had committed a grievous error in judgment. Her mother's eyes held the recognition of a stranger as she looked at her own daughter who had been expecting a tearful reunion. Hermione was painfully aware of the travesty she had wrecked in both her parents' lives every time she looked around her room at the lovingly constructed nursery, complete with crib and changing table which now occupied most of the space.

When Hermione had Obliviated her parents for their own protection, she had done it so thoroughly that her mother's mind simply refused to recover. After several treatments with Healers specializing in memory alterations, Jane Ganger was able to reconcile her real name and the fact that Bill was her husband, but not the notion that she could possibly have an almost eighteen year-old daughter.

Last week the Healers suggested moving the brain-adled woman back into their old home in the hopes of triggering memories of their former family life, but Hermione's mother could not process the situation completely. Somehow under the impression she was pregnant with the daughter everyone kept insisting she was the mother to, Jane painted her "baby's" bedroom as if she was expecting her new bundle of joy to arrive at any time. It took two days of small disparities in that belief before Jane's logical mind realized she wasn't pregnant at all. This revelation prompted an episode of confusion and grief in the distraught woman, thinking she must have miscarried her baby sine she was definitely not with child, not about to deliver her lovely little daughter.

Hermione's father decided it would be best to allow Jane to rehabilitate from her shock over the incident in St. Mungo's until she was well enough to come home. Through a tearful conversation, they came to the conclusion together that Hermione would never again be able to regard the woman who gave birth to her as her mother for the sake of Jane's own mental health. Instead Hermione would play a possible younger sister, cousin, or distant relative if she wanted to have access to her mother. It was either that or the young woman would have to simply stay away altogether.

With the bittersweet situation of having her parents back, though in a very different capacity than what she originally imagined, Hermione had grown resentful to the reality of her new life after the war. Any time spent in her bedroom, an oddly bright and shiny prison cell, was the perfect contrast to the idealistic, naïve little girl who the room should have belonged. In juxtaposition, she was an imposter, the jaded wreck of a young woman who was actually expected to live in it. The whole thing was entirely too cruel.

With a heart hardened far beyond her years, her damaged spirit hated being thrust into such an innocent space, now an abrupt reminder of her former child-like wonder about the world which her mind could no longer comprehend. While the war was officially over, the battle for Hermione's sanity was far from finished. In truth it had really just begun even if Hermione refused to admit it yet.

She would concede that her body was no longer solely her own, living to please the one to whom she was bound. She wanted to hate him but couldn't bring herself to loathe the man as adamantly as she once had. Still bitter about his behavior afterwards, it was mostly because her body had become reliant on just the thought of him that Hermione believed her dislike for the handsome blonde was undeservedly mitigated, even though acknowledging that point made her self-esteem plummet to new depths.

Ultimately her reluctant understanding of _him_ came from the last remaining logical part of her mind where she knew none of this was _his_ fault. He too had been an unwitting gambit in a dangerous game of politics played by those with more power, both of them suffering in different ways but suffering just the same.

Just thinking about the way her body craved his, this person who was otherwise unattainable given the circumstances fate resigned them to, was enough to trigger another "episode". With shaking hands and trembling legs, her eyes rolled back in her head the same way they did every time she was overcome by the dark blood-magic circulating through her body. Her own blood was the enemy now, as it seemed to be crawling its way through her veins – itchy in a way that couldn't be scratched. Every nerve-ending was reeling with impotent excitement as the window fan blew cool air against her overheated skin, whispers of pleasure she was doomed to go without as her aroused state reached new heights of futile desperation.

With regret, yet grateful for the ability just the same, she succumbed to her confliction and reached for the only thing that would quell her urges, her undeniable craving for _him_. She hated how reliant she was on Snape's magical hold-me-over, knowing it was only a temporary _fix_ but one she could in no way live without.

With a full body shudder, she took a deep breath and clutched at the potion vial she had securely attached around her neck like it was her only life-line, which was an ironically fitting description. In its decorative case, her father thought it was simply an odd piece of jewelry, completely unaware of the dark magical contents which were keeping her somewhat sane.

It wasn't difficult for the already emotionally frazzled girl to see the inevitable implosion of situation coming to fruition just as Snape had warned. She would never be able to forget his words of concern which accompanied her weekly allotment of bond-dampening potion. The concerned professor had secretly had the package delivered to her muggle home an hour after she missed their normal tea date due to her mother's unexpected hospitalization the week before. The note delivered the news that she was already aware of on some level. Very soon she was going to get worse; Severus had all but guaranteed it.

Hermione wanted to argue the point, stubborn in her belief she could overcome her _addiction_ by sheer force of will. Obstinate tendencies aside, it was becoming impossible to debate the fact that Severus Snape was right. Her overpowering _need_ had already started to increase. It was becoming more potent and driving her desire soul deep with each dose. The Potions Master's note had explained his thoughts and instructions, increasing the amount she was being given, acknowledging that the frequency her supply was replenished needed to be amended from every seven days to four as well. His gentle words and general thoughtfulness throughout his eloquently drawn letter was a dead giveaway to the dire nature of her problem.

Hermione could see it clearly now. The necessary adjustments he had made without her asking had created an awareness of the problem, showing how glaringly obvious the situation had become. No one knew her like Severus these days, and he used his observations of her condition to alter things as needed despite her best efforts towards Gryffindor bravado. Other than having unrestricted access to the source of her desire, Hermione was doomed to live like a slave to these urges until the day her body finally gave out from the exhaustion of it all.

Her worsening condition wasn't for a lack of effort on the part of the still healing professor though. Severus had done his best to conjure and concoct something –anything - to aid Hermione with her daily struggle. Assisted by the magical brew her pseudo-enemy had created to keep her alive - if you could call behaving like a deranged sex addict several times a day "living" – Hermione was at least able to function beyond the wretched capacity she would have been without it, all while trying desperately to hide her affliction from those around her. This was especially true of her father, who had only just gotten her back at the cost of his wife's mental health. She owed her loved ones that much, to fight for as long as she could withstand the torture.

Severus Snape, the teacher she once loathed, had become her only confidante in regards to her real experience at Malfoy Manor. In all honesty, after spending weeks together, he had come to mean much more to Hermione than just being a convenient sounding board. Ever since the final battle he had actually been an unexpected source of comfort and relief, something that Trelawney herself could never have seen coming with a thousand crystal balls.

Sharing his knowledge and experience along with her fresh allotments of potion which had become essential in Hermione's life, she knew she would never be able to repay his kindness, even if he hid that kindness well under a snarky façade. In fact, every time she refilled the deceptively decorative vial she kept chained around her neck, she said the magical equivalent of a prayer in Snape's honor, homage for the bravest, most underappreciated man she would probably ever meet. Her silent tribute was the least she could do for the humble man the rest of the wizarding world would never truly understand.

It was in their joint suffering that a strange kinship had formed between the star student and the gloomy professor / super-spy. Factoring in the truth that each of them had been instrumental in the continued existence of the other, they had formed a reluctant secret friendship which was solidified in their collective pain. No one knew of the familial-like loyalties which had become undeniably reciprocal between them at this point, or what lengths either of them had gone through to help the other.

The only link that was common knowledge between them was that hours after the Battle of Hogwarts had been won Hermione had gone to check on Snape. Something in her mind, perhaps a lingering lesson learned years prior when the students had become petrified by Tom Riddle's Basilisk, gave her the idea to administer anti-venom and a neuro-toxin antidote along with a blood-replenisher to the supposedly dead former Head of Slytherin. With the aid of her exquisite memory regarding the treatment Arthur Weasley received after Nagini's attack in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione had a suspicion that Snape had only succumbed to snake bite paralysis which simply mimicked death, as was typical within the magical hybrid species Nagini had been a member.

The resourceful Gryffindor would never forget the surreal moment after she administered her treatment that the presumably dead professor's eyes blinked in sudden recognition, dilating slightly before focusing directly on his savior. Then, mere seconds after regaining partial use of his facial muscles, he impressively choked out a garbled insult with a venomous gratitude only he could truly pull off. "I should deduct points from Gryffindor for how long it took such an insufferable Know-it-All to realize what needed to be done."

In shock at the absurdity of his words given the circumstances, she stared at his still somewhat stone-like face for a full minute before slumping next to him on the ground, half-laughing and half-sobbing with her head on his motionless leg. Overwhelmed by the weight of everything that had changed in her world, curled up in the lap of her supposed enemy she confessed everything that had happened since getting captured in the forest and brought to Malfoy Manor.

When finished detailing her unique predicament, to Hermione's absolute horror, the look of sincere sympathy in the eyes of a man she once thought incapable of even the smallest sliver of empathy brought her to a new level of hopelessness. Figuring if the frigidly cold-hearted Professor Snape could look at her dilemma with any sense of compassion then she was surely condemned to her misery. Unbeknownst to her at the time, her nightmare was only just getting started since her encounter with _him _was still affecting her body by dulling the pull.

To his credit, Professor Snape, grateful to Hermione Granger to be alive though he'd never admit the words aloud, explained everything he knew about the dark blood-magic which Lucius performed on her against her will. As soon as the paralysis left his arms, the weakened double agent used his dark arts knowledge to the best of his ability, creating a slightly illegal counter-acting potion to be used in moments of her absolute distress until a permanent solution could be found.

Unfortunately for Hermione nothing else worked. After modifying the specialized potion several times in the weeks that followed, the elixir she relied on was still the basic one Snape had created that day at Hogwarts in the aftermath of the battle. They had tweaked the recipe together during the three weeks Hermione stayed with Snape in his muggle safe house until her parents had been found. Glad she could help him when he needed it most, knowing he would never have asked anyone, Hermione had insisted.

Besides the fact that she actually enjoyed his company and her ability to assist the well-deserving man, Hermione Granger was relieved to be away from the media circus that followed the "Golden Trio" anywhere in the magical world. The attention was unrelenting and nothing short of phenomenal. Although Ron enjoyed it and Harry tolerated it, Hermione despised it. For so long she had wanted recognition for her magical prowess, her muggle-born status driving her need for approval amongst her peers, but to take that respect under a lens colored crimson with the blood of all the fallen witches and wizards seemed wrong, simply in poor taste even if she did not begrudge Ronald that right.

In the week she had been back in her muggle home with her dad, Hermione realized she could hardly leave her house in her current condition anymore, never knowing when she would become afflicted with her withdrawal symptoms. It was never an issue in Snape's presence because he could see an episode coming on long before Hermione could, administering treatment and moving on with the day like nothing even happened. Without the enigmatic Potion Master distracting her, she realized how bad she had gotten in the weeks since she had escaped the Manor.

With all of her other issues the last thing she needed was to have Rita Skeeter trying to investigate the reason Hermione Granger, brightest witch at Hogwarts and right-hand to 'The Chosen One', Harry Potter, was behaving like a hopeless addict. With a few Death Eaters still on the loose, the situation she had to live with was precarious enough and that was including Snape's crutch which was the only thing that made it possible to pretend to still be normal for a few hours every day.

Snape said her condition was declining since she was building up a resistance to the bond-dampening potion, but even more devastating to her psyche than the physical needs manifesting in her like a violent hurricane was the mental connection which seemed to be gaining power too. It had been just over a week since Snape became certain Hermione was fighting a losing battle, a conflict which the culmination of was exceedingly imminent. Her life had been irrevocably forfeited to the evil machinations of a certain blonde Death Eater, having sentenced her to lead the existence of a slave until her affliction killed her.

Without another thought of the day her world was turned upside down, her craving simply too great to be denied now that she had mentally opened her can of Slytherin worms, she hastily uncorked the ornate vial of magic potion that rested deep within her tank top, hidden just between her breasts to help conceal it from curious eyes. Popping off the pewter top, she used the crystal dropper inside to put a generous dose of the silvery-purple liquid on the center of her tongue.

Almost instantly her breathing evened out, her heartbeat, which had been pounding only moments before, resigned to a stable pattern once again. Relaxing to the point of feeling like she'd been given a powerful sedative, one that was specifically designed to mollify her heightened sexual need for her former nemesis, she moaned from the relief and the ecstasy of having her desires met for however brief that respite might last.

Making a concerted effort to remain in control of her mind instead of giving herself over to the feeling of satisfaction to its fullest extent right there in her nightmarish-pink bedroom, she shook her head in an attempt to clear the intense sexual imagery which came after every use of the temporary remedy. As effective as the rich, sweet chocolate flavored serum was in calming her, she had to wonder what it would feel like without the substitution, satisfying her dependence on what she really craved, the one whose name she still refused to say as if it had been placed under a Taboo.

Despite the fact _he_ held up his end of their bargain, even going as far as glamouring his family crest from her skin before bringing her back to Harry and Ron despite the danger it would have presented if his father had seen, she hated the cowardly decisions he had made after their time together. It hurt her deeply for reasons which were too difficult, too complicated to ponder.

After several minutes of enjoying her high despite her depressing thoughts about _him_, armed with the knowledge that she would be free of feeling symptoms fully again for a few hours at least, Hermione sighed and reached her fingers up to touch the claim mark at the base of her neck like she did after every dose. Glamouring the insignia away before saying another silent "thank you" to Snape for the magical assist, feeling as determined as the old Hermione Granger could get these days, she decided to capitalize on her invigorated condition and take a trip to visit the two people who needed her most these days. One a surly former double agent turned friend living in hiding, the other a friend who had lost not only his other half but his will to live.

Energized from her potion, it didn't take long for Hermione to prepare for her trip to Diagon Alley. With her disguise in place, a simple glamour charm altering the color of her hair, Hermione apparated directly from her bedroom to just outside Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. After quickly making her way off the busy street to inside the shop, she gave a small wave to Verity and Lee Jordan at the counter as she scurried to the private staircase unimpeded. Both of them had been helping out the still flourishing business in the wake of Fred's death and had become familiar with Hermione's frequent, clandestine visits to the flat above, never questioning her need for secrecy given the notoriety which surrounded her and her two best friends.

Knocking several times before entering without being granted entrance as was the norm with George since he never cared enough to lock the front door with key or enchantment anymore, Hermione braced herself to find him in the same despondent condition he was at the start of most of her visits. He would progressively come out of his depression the longer she stayed with him, but the pain never fully left his eyes no matter how long she remained by his side.

When Hermione had come over two weeks prior, Charlie, who had been staying with the distraught surviving twin, had just left the day before to return to his dragons in Romania. That was the day she found George in the worst way since his twin's burial. The once light-hearted red-head was a mess the day following his elder brother's departure, having provided a distraction in those painful weeks following the battle. Evidently the sting of loneliness had overwhelmed him after only hours of being in the flat alone.

George was sitting on the floor in the living room staring blankly out the window as if not seeing anything but painful memories instead of the bright blue sky outside. When Hermione finally managed to get him to stand she was as surprised as George seemed to be at how stiff his body was, almost like he'd spent hours in the exact same position without even realizing it. He looked lost and tormented, something she could relate to very well.

Increasing her visits to several times a week after that no matter her own condition, today she was relieved to hear George moving about in his bedroom instead of finding him near catatonic in the corner. To her surprise, Hermione listened through the door to the pleasant sound of his humming. Initially hopeful about his more jovial mood, the feeling was quickly dashed when she realized exactly what she was hearing. More accurately, what she wasn't.

The upbeat tune didn't matter at all, and what should have made her feel like George was actually on the mend made her want to cry even harder than she had at Fred's funeral. The song she recognized though it was of little consequence. It was the fact George kept pausing at regular intervals which made Hermione choke on her silent tears. He was only humming half of the beat, pausing in parts where Fred's verse clearly would have been.

Torn between disturbing him or letting him finish the tune the way he chose, Hermione backed up to stand halfway between the bedrooms and the kitchen, ultimately allowing him to time to complete the melody uninterrupted. What would be the harm in him doing something so familiar to him, something that obviously brought him comfort? Providing he wasn't hallucinating Fred's humming as well, or even if he was, Hermione had to believe this was a soothing technique he was trying out to deal with his new life without his other half. At least _he_ was doing something.

Ignoring the critical direction her thoughts had taken in regards to her own predicament, Hermione decided to make tea and a bit of food for George, who hardly remembered to eat without being reminded. Hermione hoped to naturally draw him out of his room with the wafting aroma of food. It worked sometimes, breaking the spell of melancholy that befell the surviving twin using the notorious Weasley appetite to lure him from a miserable stupor.

Putting together a sandwich with some fresh meat and cheese she found in the refrigerator, she melted the ingredients on the unexpectedly soft bread and waited for her aromatic trap to work its way into the bedroom where she could currently hear George still milling about. Within seconds of putting the sandwich on a plate with some crisps from the cupboard, George opened the door with an air of calm Hermione hadn't seen on his face in a very long time.

Optimistic, Hermione placed the plate on the surprisingly clean table and pulled out the seat. Wordlessly, George slid into the chair and Hermione gave him a kiss on the top of his head, as was their routine when she would come to visit. "What brings you here today, Granger? Miss me already?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist as he hugged her to him tightly.

She never minded the fact that his head rested on her breast when he would do this, or that he would nuzzle her in a way that should have made her uncomfortable. The contact was very pleasant and she would never shy away from his touch, something that surprised her greatly since she had previously been so reserved.

"Always, George, always," she said with a smile, taking the seat next to him when he reluctantly let her go. "The shop looked busy when I came in. Have you been down today?"

He looked at her with some uncertainty about how to answer, clearly contemplating telling her what people always wanted to hear from him before deciding on only speaking the truth with her like usual. "I thought about it. I seem to have more energy today, like I can't wait to get out of the house or something… but then I noticed how messy the flat was since Charlie left. F-Fred… he would have been upset with me for not keeping the place clean enough to move around in. I've been fixing it up so that he still would have been happy to live here if he hadn't…. I… wanted it to look like it did before, you know, the way he left things. I know that must sound pretty stupid."

"No, it doesn't. Not at all. It makes perfect sense, at least to me. I still haven't changed the bedroom after my mother's manic baby redecorating episode last week. I don't know why. I hate it, and I know it makes me feel guilty every time I see the crib and baby clothes she bought but I can't bring myself to move a thing."

George looked like he wanted to say something comforting but he forgot how. Hermione didn't care. It was the thought that counted anyway and she could see the sentiment in his eyes. Realizing he needed to say something, George commented softly, "Thanks for coming, Hermione. The others… they don't really… they're sad too of course, I know that, but they just don't get it. I'm not sure if I told you exactly how grateful I am to you for checking in on me these last few weeks."

Grasping her hand in his larger one made her feel dainty and oddly feminine. She smiled, relishing in the touch again as he continued, "I don't want to be this way, but I feel like I'm living a lie trying to pretend to be fine when I'm not. I feel like being selfish right now. I know my mother wants me to visit the Burrow, to come to dinner and pretend everything is all okay but I can't. Not for her sake, not for any of theirs."

"I know just what you mean, George," she said, looking him in the eyes where the truth laid bare.

"I know you do," he replied seriously. "I just don't know why." He looked at her with an odd expression, almost challenging her to protest. "I would like to know why, but for some reason I don't think I'm quite ready to hear it yet. I don't think I'm ready to handle someone else's pain, and I know its pain that drives you these days, Granger. No point denying it, not to me. We recognize our own kind after all."

"Who?" she asked with a shaky voice.

"We disillusioned, scarred people who carry a burden bigger than ourselves," he said absently before taking another bite of food. For some reason the way he was so nonchalantly handling the subject matter made Hermione feel especially comfortable, like the dramatic tension was squashed due to George's cavalier attitude. She was grateful for it, as it reminded her so much of Severus' oddly endearing impassivity.

With a sigh, Hermione admitted, "You are a very intuitive person, George. I'm not going to deny the things you've said. And I'm not ready to tell you any more than you are ready to hear it, but I will tell you that you would be one of the only people I could confide in, especially given how much you seem to understand already."

"Well thanks, Hermione. That was very nice to hear all things considered," George said with his mouth partially full. "So, Malfoy blonde again, huh? I wouldn't think so, but I actually like it on you. Have I told you that before?"

"No, but… ah, thanks," she stammered, grasping a strand before pushing it back in denial. Unnerved but feeling a need to explain, she stumbled on her words. "It… I guess… it was just something that h-happened when I cast the glamour. Perhaps I have blonde on the brain," Hermione muttered the last part more to herself than to George.

They were quiet after that while George finished his lunch and Hermione sipped her tea, a soothing blend to help calm her thoughts after she realized what she had accidentally done to her hair. Pulling another wild lock of her curly mane directly before her eyes for closer inspection, she realized she had indeed made her hair the same color as _his._ It had been purely an accident of course, an inadvertent manifestation of her relentless preoccupation with _him_ which she apparently couldn't escape even in her subconscious.

Finishing her visit with George on a more pleasant note than usual, Hermione slipped out the 3W's easily with her disguise in place. George was bound to have setbacks, but Hermione's spirits were lifted when he made plans with her for that weekend to help him buy a "muggle artifact" as a gift for Arthur's birthday on Sunday. The future had looked so bleak to George ever since Fred's death that he hadn't bothered dealing with extending his misery for even one day in advance. Hermione knew the fact there were now some obvious signs of planning for future needs, the fresh food in the cupboards and his father's celebration, George was healing at least a little bit, which was far more than she could say for herself.

She begrudgingly accepted that revelation, somehow feeling more depressed as she seriously considered her own tomorrows. The abrupt realization of just how engrained _he _was on her brain due to her inadvertent hair color choice, Hermione felt like she was suffocating within her own body. Knowing she couldn't remove the glamour in view of the wizarding public for fear of being recognized, suppressing a sarcastic chuckle at her brief inclination towards shaving her head, she walked quickly down the street to an open apparation point. Luckily she made it without being spotted by any roving Death Eaters, or worse - adoring fans.

She had noticed how low she was running on her potion after her morning dose. Fear of being without was a great motivating factor to warrant her showing up at Snape's muggle hideout three days early even though she knew such an action would be rewarded with a lecture on both her unbearable rudeness and her declining health. In truth, she needed more than just his master brewing skills at that moment, his friendship currently being far more important to her fragile emotional balance.

Her former potions professor tried to hide his worries behind a carefully constructed mask of indifference, mirroring his former disposition with his most annoying student as best he could. It was futile. Hermione knew him very well now, too well to mistake the look in his eyes as anything other than genuine worry for her. He was her friend and that was what she needed most. Although her dependency was sure to kick in early because her blonde hair seemed to be teasing her as maliciously as the former bully to whom the platinum locks resembled. Hermione hated how much she missed _him_, knowing Severus was the only one who would probably ever understand that unhealthy, complex dichotomy.

Snape had taken up temporary residence in a London suburb, forced to remain in hiding for his safety until the Death Eater trials were completed sometime towards the end of the summer if the Wizengamot kept up their deliriously fast pace. Though he attended the trials as a witness whenever it was expected, he was otherwise confined to his home by order of the Ministry and his own immobility. Unfortunately still unable to get around without some magical assistance, something similar to hovering so he could move about his safe house, Hermione would frequently pop over for a visit or to run his errands.

Severus Snape, who would never admit it even though he didn't have to, was always glad for Hermione's presence. After years of being annoyed with the girl who reminded him of himself as a student, though admittedly annoyingly more outspoken, he simply didn't have the energy to pretend he didn't care for her given their circumstances. She had become quite a good source for intelligent conversation and interesting debate, all without factoring in the way she was genuinely and unfailingly concerned for his well-being.

That was something novel in itself, something Snape hadn't experienced since Lily Evans took an interest in him as a child. Hermione was Snape's Lily in a non-romantic way. She filled the void Lily's death left him with after finally reconciling his unrequited feelings for Harry Potter's mother after most of his life was spent devoted to her memory. He had finally gotten his closure in those moments he was mostly dead after Nagini struck. He could finally move on, something that was easier due to Hermione's presence.

Without a second thought, Hermione apparated into Snape's safe house, more specifically her bedroom on the second floor where the walls were a lovely shade of castle gray that felt more like home than anywhere else in the world these days. In the weeks she had lived there with him, Hermione never minded the boring muggle home which was now the current residence of the healing double agent.

The completely mundane suburban house provided an ideal level of anonymity for Severus, something which was desperately needed after his home on Spinner's End was destroyed. The Order, indebted to Severus for his unyielding dedication in the defeat of Voldemort over the course of his lifetime, had gone to great lengths to secure his hideout. Believing Snape would be the greatest target for any remaining Death Eaters seeking revenge, knowing he wasn't well enough yet to survive an attack of significant magnitude, they found a spectacularly dull cookie-cutter neighborhood to help conceal the enigmatic spy from anyone who might wish him harm.

After grabbing a book she had forgotten on her nightstand the day she officially moved out the week before, Hermione fluffed her favorite pillow and made her way down to the front parlor room to wait for her former professor to find her. Since she did nothing to muffle the crackling sound of her arrival via apparation, there would only be a few moments before the dungeon bat swooped into the room, literally lighter than air due to the enchanted shoes he needed to wear until his slowly recovering legs regained their strength. Knowing he would locate her soon, Hermione decided to look over the makeshift potion storage closet in Sev's study to determine what ingredients would need to be replaced on this week's supply trip. It was either that or watch the barely used television in the sitting room which Hermione was fairly certain Snape didn't know how to turn on.

Going over her checklist she never heard Snape enter the room, though when had she ever in all the time she had known the man with the uncanny knack of materializing out of thin air no apparation required. She only knew he was there because the hair on her neck prickled in warning, an instinct she honed while on the run with Harry and Ron. While she was expecting his customary snark, mirth-filled barbs which hid the best parts of himself from the awareness of others, what happened next shocked Hermione completely.

To her surprise, Snape's voice sounded off when he spoke, almost seductive as he suddenly stepped very close behind her. Pressing himself against her, he whispered his breathy words directly into her ear. "You are early, love, but I'm glad you've given us more time together."

As his hand snaked around her stomach, pulling her close in a very provocative way, Hermione gasped and struggled to find her voice, desperate to clear up this obvious case of mistaken identity. "Um, Sev?" Hermione said, unsure of who he was expecting since he never behaved this way with her before.

"What in Merlin's name… Hermione, how rude of you to apparate into my residence without so much as a courtesy knock," he said, his voice faltering in the most uncharacteristic way as he moved away from her like she was a contagious leper. His sudden whooshing movements were quite comical given the way his feet only ghosted a few centimeters above the floor, making it seem like he was somehow falling through the air instead of walking on it.

Ignoring the reason he behaved that way, Hermione shrugged it off as an odd but simple misunderstanding before trying to ease the awkwardness. "I must say, the remarkable strides you have recently made with your sociability seem to have suffered greatly since my last visit. Haven't you missed me at all, Sev?" she asked, turning around fully now that he had given her a considerable amount of space.

As she turned, her glamoured blonde hair caught the light streaming through the windows from the setting sun, momentarily distracting Hermione with thoughts of _him _once again. Aware that was dangerous territory, she focused on changing it back to honey brown, something that seemed to settle Snape's nerves to a mild discomfort instead of the near nausea he seemed to be experiencing when he first realized the blonde in his storeroom was Hermione.

"Perhaps," Severus said, recovering form his own surprise for finding Hermione when he was clearly expecting someone else. "Perhaps the way one misses a boil that festers until it grows large enough to pop," he said coldly, a smile creeping on his face as they began their customary banter.

"Charmingly colorful, Professor, but we both know you never changed the wards after I left so that I could come and go without disturbing you in case you were resting. I don't know why you'd be surprised or upset that I did so… unless, am I interrupting something by chance?" She challenged with a cocked eyebrow, noticing that he was meticulously gathering what looked like letters on his desk. The smell of wild orchids infused the air as he moved them into the top drawer in a great haste. There was something oddly familiar about the perfumey fragrance, but Hermione was unconcerned for the moment, not wanting to make him uncomfortable or feel like she was invading his deeply cherished privacy by pressing the issue more than their harmless teasing.

"Not presently. I am, however, expecting company later… A guest whose identity I ask you refrain from inquiring about despite your annoying know-it-all sensibilities." Drawing out his words, his tone icy, Hermione knew how to read the man well enough now to know the insult was not to be taken seriously.

"Ooh, could it be possible you have a hot date, Sev?" she asked teasingly as she began taking inventory again of the supplies he needed, jotting them down on a notepad she kept in her extendable purse.

"Nothing so scandalous, and stop being cheeky. Besides, imagine my surprise at your arrival. I hadn't realized it was Friday already," he said, testing her and redirecting the hot-seat from himself as only a skilled spy could.

"Now who's being cheeky? I am aware it's only Wednesday, but I'm…"

"Not feeling well, little one?" He asked sincerely. She nodded. "While it's a pleasure to see you, even if your disguise leaves something to be desired, I could tell by your symptoms the moment you turned around that you are not at all well." Moving from behind his desk, he put his heavily calloused hands on her shoulders, steadying himself as he looked into her eyes, frowning. "I suspected as much after our last meeting, and please do realize I had your best interests in mind, but I have contacted Shacklebolt about…"

"I don't understand… you told Kingsley?" she asked, ripping herself from Snape's grasp, causing his unsteady legs to wobble to the point he had to lean on the desk for support. "He knows about what happ… how could you?! I trusted you, Sev," she said, pacing the room as if looking for a way out.

"Calm down, my dear. You know I am a man of my word, and I made a promise to you. I have assured you time and again that I will not violate your trust, life debt aside. So in the interest of our… understanding… please holster your Gryffindor propensity to hex first and ask questions later. I think I have earned the right for you to at least allow me to explain," he said smoothly, choosing not to find insult in her presumptuousness.

Shaking, her deepest fears began flashing in her mind with the thought that her nightmarish experience could be turned into gossip fodder for people like Skeeter to use as a means to make a quick galleon at her expense. Hermione clung to the knowledge that she did truly trust Severus Snape and she should never have questioned his intentions where she was concerned. More steadily, she said, "I'm sorry. You're absolutely right, Sir. I do trust you and should have given you the benefit of the doubt before I jumped to conclusions. I don't know what's wrong with me… I suppose I'm feeling worse today than I thought."

"Exactly my point, little one. I believe you will benefit greatly… or perhaps not suffer so severely if you were to have contact with your 'intended', for lack of a better term," he replied. She looked skeptical so he fluidly continued, "I have been told he is suffering the effects as well, though not to the same degree you are for the reasons we have already discussed in regards to the purpose of the bond ceremony Lucius performed."

"Do you think he knows? I wouldn't even know what to say to him about… Wait, if he's having symptoms too, is… is he okay without any potion? I can't imagine living without mine and they'd never allow him anything while he's imprisoned… I really don't wish bad things for him, but it is hard to reconcile my belief he deserves to be somewhat uncomfortable." Hermione looked at her hands as she said this, almost embarrassed as she worked through her conflicting thoughts about _him_.

"Spiteful is not a flattering disposition for you, my dear. And to answer your question, to the best of my knowledge he does not know about your condition. However, the breadth of my understanding is limited on the subject as my information comes second hand. It is for that reason I contacted Shacklebolt regarding the release of this particular prisoner. Due to his extenuating circumstances… and his relationship to you."

Severus paused, seeing that Hermione was about to argue. He promptly called upon his professorial instincts and effectively halted her comment before she began a tangent about one point or another. "Though you might disagree, certain concessions can be made for a war heroine's failing health. With only your memory of that day to go by, as it became impaired at one point, I will not be able to create a more effective potion to counteract your issues without Draco's assistance."

Hermione cringed, hearing _his _name. After a long pause where she decided on her exact words, not wanting to offend Severus by saying the things she was really thinking about his Godson, she hesitantly responded, "I don't mind having him nearby, I suppose, but for now I'd really rather not ask him to submit to the penseive, or to address the memory of that day specifically."

"I suspected that as well," he sighed. "It would be in your best interest if he could participate fully, but I will respect your wishes… for now. However, if your symptoms become much more severe I will do what I have to do to keep you alive, your stubborn modesty aside," Severus said, waving his hand over the charmed box on his desk which housed Hermione's special brew. Although the box was a plain wooden design, Hermione considered it one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen, associating it with the peacefulness its magical contents brought to her edgy, over-active nervous system.

He handed her the vial, looking conflicted but determined to help her despite knowing the potion was only masking the issue and doing a poor job of it lately too. Before releasing the bottle to her already outstretched hand, Severus added, "His freedom should be secured within the next few days, a mock trial to make his acquittal seem legitimate to the public. This should hold you until then, little one. I'm sorry I haven't been well enough to try other options, but you are aware I am still under orders of confinement to this dwelling unless I'm being escorted to the trials or the hospital."

"No, it's quite alright. I'm grateful for this as it is," she said, barely listening as her eyes became transfixed on the vial in her hand. The glint of the glass cylinder made her eyes spark with excitement, a small smile tugging at the corners of her suddenly parched mouth. "We have pretty much exhausted everything else anyway," she stated as she uncorked the top.

Although she could feel the expert Potions Master studying her responses, it did nothing to mitigate her addictive behaviors from making themselves blatantly obvious. "Besides," she said as calmly as she could considering she felt like squealing in delight from having her potion so close to her lips, "this recipe still does wonders for me. Bottoms up then," she said, tipping up the small tube.

Fighting the urge to drink the whole amount down in one sip if it were possible, she relied on the diffuser on the vial's end to administer the correct amount, no more than a teaspoon on her tongue. The tiny opening at the tapered top of Snape's re-filler bottle inhibited Hermione's ability to take much more than she should, something she was thankful was not present on her own personal container since many occasions these days called for a bit extra.

Grabbing her own special vial, Hermione removed the crystal dropper she used for accurate dosing measurements and carefully refilled the liquid chamber on her necklace with newly steadied hands. Watching her every exaggerated movement with his dissecting gaze, Snape spoke contritely, "It seems you are acquiring quite a resistance. Now that the decline has begun, this will likely become more prominent in the next few weeks." Taking back the re-fill container before replacing it in its secure dwelling on his desk, Severus took Hermione's hands in his to properly convey the serious sentiment behind his next request.

"I trust you know my door is always open to you. Though asking you to knock first might be a bit presumptuous considering you are such an impetuous little thing, but I'd still recommend it all the same," he said, teasing her again. Catching her eye with his calculating one, he waited until she looked directly at him to speak. "It would be easier, beneficial to us both, if you just came back to stay here. Besides, I wouldn't mind knowing where and when you might appear instead of being as surprised as I was today to find you roaming about my home with such a deceptive glamour in place."

His eyes met hers in challenge, an unspoken understanding acknowledged in that look which caused Hermione to smile fondly at him. He missed her but couldn't think of a way to say it without letting the moment become too emotionally oppressive. Neither of them liked such dramatic displays if they could be avoided. In the time she had stayed with him, starting a few days after the battle to just a week prior, she had come to find his sarcasm as a sign of his deepest affections. She was proud he felt that way about her, and he never had to express it with niceties to make it obvious to Hermione.

"Thank you, Sev. You know how grateful I am for that… for our arrangement, for everything. I actually may just take you up on that offer." She hadn't considered the option of going back to Sev's until just then, although she definitely should have. Other than Snape being wonderful company, quiet and reserved or interesting and conversational depending on the situation, it was a wonderful alternative to her current predicament in her parents' home. The thought never even occurred to her since she had just moved out, but if he was offering then Hermione clearly hadn't overstayed her welcome. Although on her last visit she noticed he hadn't changed a thing about her bedroom upstairs, almost like he was expecting her back at any time which was a very considerate thought indeed.

Feeling he wanted an explanation of her quick acceptance his dark eyes remained inquisitive. "After my Dad fully recovered from the memory removal I thought he would want me home, but after the awful situation with my mother it might be good if I stayed away for a while. That way he could bring her home and start living their lives again without having to wait for me to leave on the trip I planned to the States over the summer."

Snape seemed pleased with her response, but dutifully hid his reaction behind his coolly spoken words. "How is your mother's prognosis then? I understand she is in St. Mungo's mental malady ward now."

There was no need to inquire as to how he received this information when he was basically on house arrest – Snape just had his ways. Knowing she had been brief in the explanation she sent Severus by owl after she missed their scheduled tea, she tried to determine where to begin. Hermione hadn't gone into much detail since her mother was in hysterics at the time, clinging to her father while sobbing uncontrollably, trying to figure out where her baby girl had gone. It was especially painful for Hermione to hear her mother grieve the loss of the daughter she'd never know, realizing she was the one being mourned even if her mother didn't have a clue.

With as much detachment as she could mimic from her mentor, Hermione tried to remain steadfast in her resolve not to cry about this situation anymore. "When we tried to bring her home last week she painted my room pink, somehow under the impression her baby had yet to be born. Even though they're closer now to restoring her than when we started this impossible task, when she realized she wasn't nine months pregnant the shock put her into a right state. We had to send her back for evaluation and more treatment. With any luck my Dad will still get his wife back, but I know now that my mother will be lost to me forever."

"I know this offers little consolation, but your parents would most assuredly have been captured and tortured had you not been so clever and Obliviated them before you left with Potter," Severus said calmly, remembering the orders Yaxley was given to abduct the Grangers. Snape had planned some subterfuge to thwart the endeavor, but none was needed due to Hermione's foresight.

"I know that, I really do, but it doesn't help with the guilt I feel every time I look at my father. He's so conflicted. I'm sure he's still angry with me on some level, I did steal his life from him twice and the family he wants will never be whole again. He's feeling guilty for wanting me around while knowing _his wife_ doesn't recognize me. On advice from the Healers, we've been trying to decide on a cover story for them to implant, something that makes it possible for me to come around. My dad was thinking I should be an illegitimate daughter he didn't know he had until recently."

Hurriedly now before any stray tears escaped, Hermione said, "Speaking of, I really must be getting home to make dinner for him now, I stayed longer than I intended with George." Severus didn't ask what that might have meant, knowing she had been spending large portions of her day consoling George Weasley no matter how crippling her symptoms were due to the bond sickness which was firmly taking hold of her now.

Looking at him with a haughty smile that was obviously forced considering their intensely unsettling conversation a moment before, Hermione said sweetly, "And please, Severus, thank your guest for me. Whomever it is that has put you in such a pleasant mood to entertain my rude popping over in such a cordial way, I believe deserves an Order of Merlin First Class for their efforts." With a chuckle, Hermione apparated away. Severus was left staring at the empty spot where she had just stood, a deeply concerned look on his face as his protective feelings towards the girl overwhelmed him once again.

**A/N:** I don't make money from these characters or concepts, but will happily accept reviews on this story as compensation. :)


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: The first part of this chapter is the last bit of exposition for a while. Most of the rest of this story is largely dialog-based, but there are some crucial elements contained within Hermione's descriptions of the state of things before a certain someone makes a grand entrance. If there are any questions, please just let me know what needs clarification. Thanks!

**Forgiving Fate**

Chapter 5

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After battling with the annoyingly sweaty sheets, Hermione managed to untangle herself and rose from the bed with a defeated sigh. She had forced herself on more than one occasion to sleep off some of her mid-morning delirium, but there would be no hope for that on this particular day. There was simply too much going through her mind to rest any longer. Besides, no matter how much she tried to block out the unrelenting sunlight streaming through her sheer-curtained windows, Hermione knew no amount of hiding under her covers like a frightened little girl would halt this day and whatever news it would inevitably bring.

Hermione pulled on a pair of worn denim shorts and a comfy powder blue racer-back tank before dutifully making her way downstairs and into the sweltering heat of her backyard. Gardening was a part of her routine on days she chose not to venture out of the house to visit George or Severus. Since returning to her parents' house, it became a self-imposed chore she forced herself to complete until it was time to start dinner. While her father held no expectations of her preparing their nightly meals, it was obvious to Hermione he was pleased she began doing so with regularity after seeing how out of character her sometimes surly behavior had been since she returned home.

Hermione had decided that gardening was the perfect mundane activity to deter her pleasure-seeking brain from going haywire at certain intervals throughout day. Her reaction, as extreme as it was sometimes, couldn't be helped when the wave of sexual frenzy which came from her magical binding and branding overtook her. It was all just an exaggerated instinctual response; her body reflexively panicking with the knowledge that her real _fix_ was nowhere around. It was always started with the same pattern, inexplicably overwhelming her with extreme sexual desire before overriding everything else which told her to act normal. It was during those times that Hermione had to take measures to ensure she was safe and had access to her potion, knowing no alternative than to take a dose when the need struck so intensely.

Considering all of the death and destruction she had seen leading up to the demise of Voldemort, digging in the dirt of her mother's old flowerbeds was definitely the kind of therapeutic activity she needed to adjust her combative inclinations with regular, non-violent life. Figuring she needed something to take her mind off of her intermittently depraved thoughts about a certain blond fellow with a penchant for smirking, she looked for simple tasks to help meditate in a more functional way than just staring at her hideous pink walls in a futile search for inner peace.

Luna had been the one to originally suggest tending to flowers and vegetables as a means of relaxation. On the last occasion they had spoken, Hermione happened to be visiting the Burrow at the same time as the dreamy-voiced Ravenclaw. Luna ambiguously assured Hermione that one day she would find something springing to life in her garden that she never expected to see there. Her strange friend made this promise with such sincerity and confidence that Hermione almost forgot she didn't give much credence towards Divination. The odd witch claimed it would be the exact thing Hermione needed to heal her broken soul. It was an odd encounter, but one Hermione took to heart. Needless to say, the distraught war heroine had been rooting around in the soil and nursing the plants back to health ever since. She was hoping to cure at least one of her current ailments: a ragged spirit and a very specific sexual obsession.

In the time that had passed since Harry defeated the Dark Lord, Hermione had also been very busy trying to reconnect to non-magical life. Experiencing the lighter part of the regular human world which had gone fairly untouched by the Death Eater fallout, she hadn't expected to enjoy it so much. Living in muggle suburbia with her injured Potions Teacher and unable to freely use her magic had taught her some long-forgotten humility, bringing her back to her roots so to speak.

Though she knew her decision to isolate herself was only a temporary reprieve from the stress of the magical world, the desire to live without potions, charms, and incantations for a little while sounded very appealing. If nothing else it was a welcomed change to life on the run, hiding in the wilderness during the search for Horcruxes while being hunted down by Death Eaters and Snatchers. That had certainly not been an environment conducive to anything other than an early heart attack, certainly not the vacation her father had been tricked into believing she had been on by the Healers from St. Mungo's Brain Malady Department.

As unlikely as it seemed, Hermione's father believed that was exactly what she had been doing while she had sent her parents away – vacationing. In order to keep the Golden Trio safe while the adults fought off the Dark Lord, Bill Granger believed Hermione and her friends had been travelling the globe with a security detail. Although her father's memories of her childhood had been fully restored, the Healers who elected to help Hermione repair her parents' minds said filling in the gaps where she went missing would make the reconstitution more effective. What better way to explain her lack of contact than travelling abroad with Ron and Harry to avoid the dangers of the wizarding world? They had even said Snape chaperoned their class outing, giving credence to the trip as being a partially scholastic endeavor as well as a safety precaution.

It was probably better for her father's own mental health that he didn't know the extent of danger his daughter had actually been in anyway. The drawback of the lie she had chosen was a constant need to keep it going. Adding to the mounting list of supposed sights they had seen and carefree adventures they had together as the trio explored the world, it was really quite exhausting for the already "sick" girl to entertain her father's inquisitive nature.

Evidently Hermione's unquenchable need for information had indeed come from growing up with a parent that was so naturally curious about everything, seeking knowledge as a recreational activity. She was now thoroughly frustrated with that familial personality trait, having regrettably agreed that Severus Snape had good cause to find her so annoying over the years.

While her father was busy during the day restarting his old dental practice, Hermione would spend the morning laying in her bed feeling utterly destroyed until lunch time when she would "treat" her inevitable erotic episode. Afterwards she would do her best to enjoy the warm sun on her skin and fresh air filling her lungs while concocting the tale to be told that night at dinner. She needed believable, happy stories to help charm her father into trusting the pretty picture she had painted for him. Imagining these tales was not the problem for the clever Gryffindor; it was the guilt. She felt like a coward for keeping such extreme secrets from her dad, but she was too mentally exhausted to avoid taking the easy route. Not to mention that Hermione felt she owed him the peace of mind of not knowing after everything she'd put their family through.

Fearing her father's reaction, it had taken her days just to muster up the courage to explain that she had unequivocally ended things with Ron, her "assumed" boyfriend, several months before. And yet another enormous lie was told that evening as she described how they were simply too different to get along. The truth really was that her red-haired quasi-boyfriend was busy enjoying his newfound celebrity to the fullest extent possible, pandering to the attentions of all of the women falling at his war hero feet. Using his stardom to avoid dealing with Fred's death and much the way he seemed to get lost in the spotlight when he developed Quidditch skills back at Hogwarts, as soon as women started flocking to him wherever they went Hermione knew it was time to officially end the possibility of anything developing between them. Dissolving any notions Molly might have been entertaining, Hermione made her choice to be alone clear before a wedge was driven between them that couldn't be fixed.

Besides, Hermione was harboring a very dark, damaging secret of her own which she never had any intention of revealing to the temper-driven red-head. Her mind was focused on other _things_ anyway, far too preoccupied with her own body being out of control to be too hurt by the amicable dissolution of her potential relationship with Ron. Hermione was more relieved than anything else that it never really got started to begin with, despite what the rumor mill said about the pair.

The latest gossip in the Prophet had all thankfully been centered around the Death Eater trials instead of chatter about the Golden Trio for once. Hermione didn't want to be too optimistic, but the nagging delight she felt at the thought of today's specific Death Eater trial ending any minute was weighing heavily on her already distracted brain. Putting aside the fact that a young man's life hung in the balance, the Ministry's determination would either give her a modicum of hope or vicariously doom Hermione to permanently endure her suffering alone. Despite Severus' assurances the other day that _his_ freedom was fairly secure, Hermione had too much invested in hisrelease to not be nervous, knowing just his presence would ease her torment while vicariously adding one of a different sort.

Seeing the sun sitting low in the sky, Hermione knew it was almost _time_ again. Hours had passed since her last dose and the inevitable was upon her once more. Every time she would begin her ritual she was adamant in trying to resist as long as possible. It was futile, of course. There was no way she could escape what she _needed_, what she _craved_. It was in her blood now after all, expanding in her like a disease she despised and adored simultaneously. She couldn't remember life without feeling this way, so devoted to another singular being. Everything she did had his image in her mind like a cruel companion, taunting her since he was sadly out of reach in more ways than just distance.

Not wanting to trigger an episode even though she could already feel it bubbling up inside, she tried her best not to think about it – _him_. Concentrating on active avoidance of those thoughts only seemed to drive them deeper, making her symptoms much more severe. With a whimper she gave in, pulling her honey brown hair out of the ponytail, fluffing it out as she let her fingers graze her scalp to prepare herself fully. This innocent action reminded her of _him _too_,_ of his hands on her _that_ day. Even though she didn't want to deal with the pain of fantasizing of _him_, her mind drifted anyway. It always did.

Hermione rubbed the sore muscles of her neck, aching from toiling in the dirt. Her slender fingers on her own skin felt better than it had any right to as she imagined strong, masculine hands gliding along her neck, pressing and kneading with care before solid arms pushed her to the ground. It didn't matter if his handling of her body was gentle or rough in her fantasies, as long as it was _him_ touching her she would be blissfully sated. Her skin started to sizzle at the thought of his skilled hands placing her just where he wanted, anything to please him. It was almost too much.

Knowing where things were headed now that her imagination had taken control, she acted quickly. The last thing she wanted was to have her father come home from work only to discover his daughter inexplicably behaving like a wanton woman rolling around in the dirt of their rose garden. Possessively grabbing the bond-dampening potion from around her neck, she took a larger than normal swig to quell the onslaught.

Not bothering to measure it, she found that she had indeed indulged way too much. As frightening the prospect of running out of Snape's brew, Hermione was ecstatic with her error. Her blood seemed to effervesce from the intoxicating potion, tickling her from the inside as it bubbled new life into her depleted body. Under the intensity of the magical hold, the thrum of the world reached a crescendo. Hermione moaned while hugging her arms tightly around her body, as if to brace herself for what she knew would come next.

She had only done this once before - taken too much. It had been quite unintentional as she had still been learning how to acclimate to her new medicated life. But just as last time, everything she saw, every sound to be heard in the garden became heightened to a spectrum not normally afforded human ears. In that moment of sweet indulgence everything in the world seemed more beautiful, touched by heavenly magic and only she seemed to realize fully.

The usually loquacious witch had stumbled to describe it the first time, the moment catching her so off guard that it was over before she was able to define it, to get a real taste of it, to memorize its brilliance. But this time she had been more prepared and knew this indescribable feeling well to some degree. She felt it in some measure every time she drank her potion. It was pure, unadulterated bliss and she desperately wanted more, to sustain it for as long as she could.

Her brain went hazy after that, lost in the detached happiness that came from the accidental overdose as time itself was rendered moot. Once her mind settled, still dizzied by the powerful magic swirling inside of her, she propped herself back up on her elbows. Unsure of when she had fallen to her back, Hermione continued to dreamily gaze up at the majestic orange hues and pillowy white clouds decorating the sky as her fleeting ecstasy waned and the buzz in her body subsided.

Alert but still too sedate to move, Hermione made a mental note to get in touch with Snape first thing in the morning to refill her supply. She smiled haughtily about that. Thinking about dropping in unannounced on Severus so soon after her last unexpected visit made her giddy. He was so much fun to aggravate now that she knew how much he cared for her – how much he would tolerate from her before he snapped. She felt like a plover sitting in the mouth of a crocodile, pecking harder than it should, knowing it wouldn't be gobbled up because of their strong symbiotic relationship.

After the last remnants of her euphoria fully subsided, Hermione was almost sad that she hadn't indulged more, letting her imagination progress further while the opportunity had presented itself. The visualization of _his_ hands on her still drove her mad despite the magical component of their connection being dampened by the potion. Ever since that day he was all she could think about - bond or not. Narrowly avoiding any painful reflections on what could have been, she shook out of her obsessive stupor and resituated herself to better focus all her energy on finishing her gardening before the sun set.

Feeling a resounding bit of comfort from a job well done, she took in the trimmed roses she had worked so hard on that day. With a deep sigh of satisfaction, she decided to go in to the house and freshen up, but no sooner than Hermione had begun collecting her tools had she recognized the significance of a crack of thunder despite any impending storm. Hearing the warning signs only a split second before _someone_ apparated right in the middle of the vegetable patch four meters away, a stunned Hermione Granger sat slack-jawed and staring.

It only took a moment for her to recognize the visitor, _his_ unexpected arrival a dramatic surprise for more reason than one. Instantly falling out of sorts upon seeing the face which haunted her every thought; a volcano of rage smoldering underneath a sea of blissful calm was threatening to erupt. She was torn on how to approach this man she needed to keep herself alive yet wanted to murder just to put them both out of their misery.

Watching her face display the evidence of her conflicting internal musings, he stared at Hermione in confusion, seemingly waiting for the tortured young woman to decide on one feeling before he spoke. He obviously intended to wait her out, so she took the opening to glance carefully at him from the corner of her eye. Knowing how potentially dangerous it was to do so at the risk of being blinded to the world outside of him, her hands were already trembling as she unwillingly became fixated on his intense gray eyes.

Pleased to see how unnerved he was by her presence in the same way she was by his, Hermione felt like she could cling to the last shred of dignity which was stopping her from crying out in relief upon seeing his face. Not wanting to give in yet despite the overwhelming temptation to throw him to the ground to do any number of naughty things, she made the odd realization he narrowly missed standing ankle deep in summer squash, having apparated his expensive dress shoe clad feet haphazardly between the bounty of forming vegetables she had been trying to grow.

To her amusement, and in spite of his serious expression, Draco stepped out of the garden as if nothing was amiss about his grand entrance. He looked beautiful, stoic, always regal no matter his surroundings. His typical Slytherin attitude evidently still persisted despite the hell she knew he had been dealing with since last she saw him. It was something she could almost grow to admire given the stressful situation even though she'd never help swell his ego by speaking words of praise for the prat.

"Mind the vegetables, would you, Malfoy?" she said as indifferently as possible, hoping the quiver in her voice was audible only to her. "I know they wouldn't be important to you, but typically when you show up at someone's house without notice you don't trample all of their hard work down into the dirt. On second thought, knowing you… that _is_ probably how you would greet someone like me," she said, bitterly making her point by packing the muddy soil for emphasis even though she had already finished.

In truth, she needed that moment to gather some nerve to look directly into the eyes of the man she knew was staring at her. He seemed as oblivious to anything else going on in the world around them just as severely as she had been moments before. As if gravity had ceased to exist the moment he arrived, Hermione's world was spinning out of control, the only constant – Draco Malfoy – standing just beyond her reach, not that she wanted to touch.

Realizing he wasn't going to elect to trade even semi-hostile pleasantries yet, she sighed and stood up off the foam gardening mat she used to protect her knees. Rubbing the dirt from her hands on her bare legs, his eyes travelled up the length of her body, concentrating heavily near her neck. Her hand immediately went to the mark which resided there, knowing that was what he was thinking about even if it was out of view. With her hand protectively covering the insignia, even though she religiously glamoured the spot away every morning, his eyes snapped back up to hers instantly. He was an unreadable mix of emotion, a mystery ready to be broken with the slightest provocation even though his apathetic facade would never allow it.

With that small difference in their posturing, the eye contact she had hoped to avoid, Hermione knew she was done for. He had her transfixed now like a mesmerized snake moving to the music of its charmer. Hating that she was enthralled so easily given the extra-large dose of potion she just ingested, Hermione finally managed to blink. Breathing a sigh of relief that she wasn't as far gone as she had anticipated when she dreamed about their next encounter over these past few weeks. She tried to find a crack in his stoic expression to gauge the reason for his visit, but was at a loss from the strange, unfamiliar look on his face.

With the spell finally broken by his subtly downcast face, she just knew she wasn't going to like what he had to say but couldn't help but prompt him anyway. Feigning ignorance, she finally asked, "Why are you here? Wasn't your trial today?"

Effectively removed from his trance by her question, the blond man looking a little worse for the wear came a few steps closer before answering. "It just concluded actually, only moments before I apparated here. With certain stipulations still to be determined, I was released due to insufficient evidence of all things. Well, that and because a few noteworthy people spoke on my behalf." She nodded at him, hoping he would continue without having to press him for more information since she hardly knew what to say.

When he neglected to explain further, standing there pensively instead, she grew apprehensive of his motives. Her already tenuous faith in him was destroyed by his involvement in the fight in the Room of Requirement during the Final Battle, his intentions and loyalties obvious to Hermione even though she hoped for more from him. Scanning the yard for any potential danger he might have purposely or unwittingly brought with him, he quickly recognized the reason for her alarm.

Correcting her suppositions before her brain made things even more complicated, Draco added quickly, "I'm sure I wasn't followed. You're perfectly safe since only Snape knows I'm here with you. I used the Floo to leave the Ministry and then apparated here when it was safe."

Barely containing an indelicate snort of indignation at his assurance of her safety, Hermione retorted with bitterness, "While I am sure Sev meant well, why would you think muggle-born me deserved the honor of being the first stop on your post-trial victory tour?"

Under his breath she thought she heard him say "It doesn't feel like a victory", but he had been looking around the many rows of plants and flowers as he neared her and she couldn't be sure. Without elaborating on his previous comment, he said his next one with enough force that she knew it was meant for her to hear. "I'm sorry, but I needed to… I have some questions I need answered and you are the only person who could do that given the circumstances."

"Alright, I suppose. I was just about to go inside and wash up to make dinner for my dad," she said quickly, feeling forced to ease his palpable discomfort for some reason. "Do you… want to come in?"

He looked unsure for a moment, clearly finding the outdoor venue more comfortable considering the profound tension between them. Being in a confined space would undoubtedly make it worse, and if it hadn't been for the fact she really did have to start supper then she would have gladly remained out there until he left. To Hermione's surprise, he gave a polite "Thank you" for the invitation and entered directly behind her, having caught up quickly with three purposeful strides of his long legs.

Entering the house through the back sliding glass doors, he began to survey the conservatively decorated living room with great interest. Looking around in a way one might at a museum where you were supposed to keep your distance from the displays, he seemed restless and quickly abandoned his browsing in favor of coming into the kitchen with her.

"Your home is very nice, very quaint, Granger," he said from the doorway.

"Yes, the Granger Estate is quite lovely in the late spring, isn't it?" she sarcastically retorted, putting on her most pretentious voice. "Don't be a condescending git, Malfoy."

With the small smile he had maintained since coming inside fading to a serious frown, he said darkly, "I have been in a cramped, musty holding cell at a makeshift prison in the windowless basement of the Ministry surrounded by irate disciples of the Dark Lord for the last twenty-eight days. Trust me when I say this place is a palace."

She frowned, unsure if she should believe his words despite the obvious sincerity in which they were spoken. Having your home winning a comparison to a prison wasn't exactly a raving review. Hermione would just have to accept it for what it was - more of a compliment than Malfoy would have ever directed her way previously.

"Please, sit," she said, gesturing to the small white table in the nook of the modest kitchen. "Tell me why you're here, Malfoy."

Fearing the answer and her reaction to any of the things he might have wanted to say, she purposely turned away, recognizing the easiest and most accommodating hostess-esque distraction would be to prepare tea for her guest. She grabbed the tea kettle and quickly filled it with water, hoping he hadn't noticed her trembling hands yet somehow knowing he hadn't missed a thing.

Obviously feeling more comfortable now that he couldn't see her face, Malfoy finally explained with a sigh, "Yes, well, about that… have you been following the Death Eater trials at all? The charges? The evidence?"

Hermione exhaled loudly, hoping to convey her annoyance for him bringing these issues literally to her doorstep when all she wanted to do was take a break from it all. Despite her desire to chastise him, she answered honestly, "Some, mostly things I hear from Harry when he has time to speak on the weekends. He's been so busy testifying or consulting on almost every case presented to the Wizengamot that it's been a bit since he properly debriefed me." In truth, she knew more than enough from Severus and George, getting only the most salacious news from Harry when he had time to talk which was becoming a rarity these days.

"Then let me tell you about my own trial so you might be able to understand the source of my confusion today," Draco said with a rough edge to his voice.

With the water in the kettle slowly simmering to a boil and no excuses left to keep her from looking directly at him, she nodded as she turned around and sat across from Draco at the suddenly too-tiny table. "In exchange for my freedom, I agreed to testify against the others, using Veritaserum as the basis for my confessions… for safety reasons. Reprisal against me on the basis of my testimony should be limited since the potion is what will have compelled me to tell the truth," he said with a sideways smile. Hermione wanted to be impressed with this tactic but remained doubtful. Even if he was hinting that he had indeed switched allegiances, she had seen too much of his duplicitous nature not to remain cautious.

Seeing her glower, he continued with a small huff after her disappointing lack of reaction, "The Ministry hasn't officially decided on the rest of my sentence yet. I think they are waiting to see how much my testimony is worth based upon each conviction it helps achieve. All I know is that Azkaban isn't in my future anymore, and for that I am eternally grateful… Or at least I would be if I understood one thing which you alone can explain. Why is it that the Ministry does not seem aware of the full extent of my crimes? Why is it that Kinglsey Shacklebolt himself personally spoke out on my need to be released?" he asked, looking at her through squinted eyes. "It's odd, don't you think, that a person with whom I've had no prior relationship, a person you are close with testified so poignantly on my behalf."

As if all her fears had come to a head, everything she had been avoiding so dedicatedly had effectively just slapped her in the face, she shouted at him, "Is that why you've come here? You're disappointed? You wanted me to testify against you… or against _him_?"

With gritted teeth, he answered hesitantly, "Depends on what you would say, I suppose. Potter spoke up for me in regards to the last part of the battle, so they felt obligated to lessen the degree of my punishment despite everything else. Imagine my surprise when one of the things I most regretted out of all my misdeeds went overlooked in the charges levied against me, something that surely would have convinced them to leave me confined for the rest of my life had they known."

"So you're upset you weren't punished properly? That's a tad masochistic, wouldn't you say, Malfoy?" she said with a smirk tugging at the corner of one side of her mouth, oddly similar to Draco's own typically haughty expression. Her words were deliciously evocative and only he knew why she chose them, the memory of the pleasurable portion of their rough encounter clearly playing out behind his silver eyes as he groaned softly.

Hermione gave herself a mental pat on the back for having already ingested enough of the bond-dampening potion to grant her the ability to think straight in his presence. Otherwise her hostility towards him would have been muted under a thick coating of desperation, something which would have made her inwardly angry later even though somewhere deep down she knew touching him in any capacity would make her ecstatic.

"Perhaps," he said resolutely, struggling to move past the erotic imagery Hermione had just painted in both of their minds. "But the things I've done, my failures… I was prepared to face them. I have spent the better part of four weeks alone in a dark cell staring at a dirty wall just waiting for the moment when the truth would come out… when I would be judged for the things I truly feel guilty about, but today… it just never happened. Now I need to know why you pardoned _him_… and me for what was done to you," he said seriously.

Seeing the argument brewing in her eyes he added quickly, "Things got out of hand that day, Granger, and what happened to you is at least partially my fault."

With her palm slamming against the table abruptly, rattling her mother's porcelain tea set, she seemed to startle both of them with her outburst. "Sorry to disappoint your deep curiosity, but I do not want to talk about this under any circumstances, Malfoy. Not ever if I can help it. I see that you've come for some sort of explanation from me, but I haven't got one for you other than I wanted to distance myself from the things that happened that day as much as possible. We simply did what we had to do in order to survive, and just like I promised nobody else knows the whole truth." She looked at him, daring him to dispute any of her assertions. "Well, besides Severus, I mean, but that couldn't be helped," she admitted quietly, looking at the floor.

After taking a deep breath she managed to continue more calmly. "I just wanted to leave as much of it behind me as possible, which unfortunately isn't much all things considered," she said, gesturing arbitrarily to the back of her neck. "Besides, there was also no way I could keep you out of it if I had told anyone about what _he_ did. It's simply better for everyone involved to just let those demons rest. Your _father _has enough charges levied against him that Azkaban is a sure thing anyway, right? There'd be no need to drag us all through that just for some symbolic retribution."

Although Draco nodded in agreement with her assessment of his father's future, his vehement desire to find the answers to his questions remained evident on his face. He decided to play the reluctant gentleman, giving in to her adamant wish to leave this conversation alone. For now at least, he would bite his tongue. Somehow Hermione already knew he would be as relentless with this quest as he was with everything else he did, leaving a difficult conversation looming as a problem for another day.

With that discussion out of the way, she silently served him his tea before trying to make what she had assumed would be awkward small talk. Surprisingly, it was easier than either of them would have thought possible considering the complicated history between them. With the elephant in the room fluctuating in size depending on the topic, they had a rather amiable discussion about the reconstruction at Hogwarts, her plans to return to Severus' muggle hideout, and Snape's overall recovery from Nagini's bites which nearly killed him.

Attempting to keep their shared secret off the table for discussion despite the events of _that_ day weighing heavily on both their minds, it was with significant relief when she heard her father's car pulling up the gravel driveway. Malfoy tensed at the car rumbling on the stone, his nerves made worse by the sound of the creaky automatic garage door opener activating. It was actually quite entertaining to Hermione to see him so unnerved. She could practically read his scattered thoughts while trying to imagine what the mechanical sound was that made it seem like the house was falling apart.

She smiled broadly and stated with a smirk, "It's a muggle contraption which lifts the garage door when someone drives up so the person doesn't have to get out of the car until after they park."

"Oh… interesting, very clever," he said so oddly that she wasn't sure if he was serious or not. "I really never saw the point in taking Muggle Studies since I had never left the magical realm before," he said in a subdued tone. "I had harbored no plans to either, until recent events anyway."

With her curiosity peaked by the strange statement, she was about to ask him how long he was planning on staying when her father came through the garage door attached to the kitchen, only noting the stranger in the room when he was standing next to the wizard at the table. Surprised yet smiling politely at Draco, her dad hugged his daughter tightly, trying to get a feel for the situation before commenting.

Stunned to see her looking so vibrant after a week of pained faces, her father instantly attributed the blonde fellow as the source of Hermione's re-invigorated condition, not realizing how true that correlation really was. The intelligent man was aware that something significant had happened in the magical community recently, but he never directly asked questions about things he knew his daughter couldn't answer. This unknown component to Hermione's life was the undeniable cause of his relentless, albeit futile curiosity on the subject. Finding a young man he'd never seen before sitting in his kitchen sipping tea provided the dentist with an intriguing opportunity to indirectly learn more about the life of his enigmatic daughter.

"Dad, this is Draco Malfoy. We went to school together. Draco, this is Bill Granger, orthodontist extraordinaire."

"Nice to meet you, son," her dad said, extending his hand to fist bump Draco who looked extremely uncomfortable, very guarded and unsure of what to do with the friendly muggle gesture. Although her father insisted on keeping up with "hip" youth culture to put his younger patients at ease before he tightened their braces, his awkwardness in execution rivaled that of Arthur Weasley. Hermione, wanting to end the misery before the discomfort stifled them all, was about to say something when Malfoy reacted in a way she would have never expected. Placing his hand over her father's closed fist with a firm grip - "paper" essentially covering "rock". Draco then shook their joined hands with a cautious smile.

"Well okay then," Bill Granger commented off-handedly, "At least you didn't leave me hanging." The amused orthodontist smiled and pulled his hand away to which Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Hermione in question about the colloquialism he didn't understand.

With a peal of delirious laughter stuck in her throat, Hermione pretended to cough a bit before trying to help explain the awkwardness to them both. "Dad, Draco comes from a ridiculously long line of wizards and witches, so he hasn't had a lot of experience with non-magical people. He wasn't sure what to do when you put your hand out like that since Wizards rarely touch beyond a quick handshake, certainly no fist bumps."

"I sincerely apologize for my faux pas, Sir. I assure you I meant no disrespect or _hanging_ of any kind," Malfoy responded seriously, oblivious to his awkward turn of phrase. As uncomfortable as she was with having the embodiment of her obsession standing in her kitchen pleasantly conversing with her father, she couldn't help but chuckle along with her dad. The Slytherin looked at the witch suspiciously, not understanding why they thought his eloquently spoken statement was so humorous.

"Wow, you really are from out of town, aren't you?" Bill said, putting down his briefcase and pouring a cup of tea for himself from the now lukewarm pot. "Are you staying in the muggle world for a while or are you heading back to the land of flying broomsticks and castles soon?"

Draco smiled, seemingly entertained by something in Bill Granger's disposition. "I believe it will be in my best interest to try things out here for a bit." Even though he neglected to say it due to the mixed company, Hermione understood the implication. His release from prison would have caused quite a stir and the intricacies of which were probably only being discussed in hushed tones within the Ministry's halls. Draco needed to either stay in jail or disappear for a while. What better place to do that than the muggle world where a pureblood prat like him would never have been suspected of going voluntarily?

"Given your reaction to a handshake, I hope you have someone to assist you in acclimating to life away from wands and wizardry." Although Bill's voice was teasing as he addressed Draco, the dentist's cocked eyebrow made the blond wizard feel compelled to supply some sort of answer. It was an ability his father only commanded due to fear, but one Bill Granger managed easily simply by using a respectful tone.

"Things haven't been quite normal for me in a while, so I am unconcerned with upheaval in general." Recovering quickly from his admission, Draco's eyes seemed alight as he glanced at Hermione. "As for a chaperone, I was hoping your daughter might help give me some pointers for my safe navigation in this new environment, especially since I will frequently be visiting the home of our former professor." The manipulative snake looked at her, challenging Hermione to deny him since it was clear her father was about to offer her services anyway. It shouldn't have surprised her since the orthodontist was elated to have come home to find his daughter moving around without looking like a zombie for the first time since he returned to England.

Hermione came to her own quick defense. "Yes, the same professor who escorted us during our time studying-abroad. I'm sure he'll be proficient in helping you adjust."

Bill Granger smiled at Draco, who ignored Hermione's interjection and continued speaking like a professional orator. "It will surely take some convincing on my part, as Hermione and I have not shared the best association in the past. I do hope to change that, Sir. For now I will do my best to blindly stumble through my day like a fool until your daughter's sense of compassion wins out."

"My obstinate daughter aside, being on your own in public might not be very safe for you, young man," the man said, hiding his smile due to Hermione's obvious discomfort over the wizard's carefully chosen words.

"Nonsense, Dad, Draco is a very powerful wizard. I'm sure he'll adapt quickly, since he's also a very intelligent student." Hearing the direction the conversation was going Hermione had to interject, hating the smug look her words seemed to create on the Slytherin's face. "He was the second best at Hogwarts after all," she said with a sneer, not wasting an opportunity to gloat a little in front of her former rival.

Picking up on Hermione's obvious smugness and Malfoy's mirthful smile at the back-handed compliment, her father laughed. "Oh, I see. I apologize, Draco, my daughter is the epitome of competitive and I sympathize if you have had to contend with her constantly raising the bar to extreme heights over the years."

"Yes, but my cunning pursuit of her position in the top spot made it so we were both leagues ahead of the rest of the riff-raff. I cannot find fault in that," Draco said, looking at Hermione with a sly smile. "And you need not worry about me, Sir, I'll manage. I always do."

"I can't imagine what that might be like for you though," her father said. "I suppose that would be the equivalent of travelling to a foreign country while still being able to speak the native language. You understand the words but not the customs. How interesting an adventure for you to undertake, exploring the wilds of our non-magical world without a guide?"

"I do enjoy a challenge," Draco said, looking at Bill but directing his comment to Hermione. He didn't need to look at her for the intelligent witch to see that his innuendo was meant for her.

After a few more pleasant exchanges between the men in her kitchen, Hermione was mortified by how quickly Draco Malfoy had won over her muggle father. It wasn't the irony. It was that Draco had showed her a side of him she didn't know was there; amazing amounts of maturity and a witty personality she never knew existed under his haughty exterior. After receiving Bill Granger's open invitation to return another time, Draco excused himself, stating his need to run the rest of a long list of errands for the day.

With his newfound Malfoy-love, Hermione couldn't help but imagine how far her father's sparkling blue eyes would pop out of his head if she told him Draco really had so many things to do because he had just been incarcerated for almost a month for helping stage a bloody coup on the magical community. It was an interesting thought that she knew she would keep to herself despite the comic value.

Draco pulled out all the stops as he went to leave, shaking Bill's hand again before the calculating charmer went as far as kissing the back of Hermione's knuckles before going to the backyard to disapparate. Her father, who had never actually seen Hermione do that before, began looking in the air as if he would see pieces of the polite blond man he just met flying around the house. With a smirk set on his face, her Dad seemed satisfied it wasn't going to rain Slytherins so she went to stand next to him at the window above the sink which overlooked the backyard garden.

Making a mental note to remind Draco to be more careful with magical displays in front of muggles if she ever saw him again - and she secretly hoped she would - she gave her Dad a pat on the back. By the awed look on his face, she knew she needed to answer her father's unasked question before he came up with a hundred more about their strange visitor. "Yes, Daddy, I can do that too, except mine happens with a white shimmer, not black like his." Hermione was glad he didn't ask for an explanation as to why, knowing the dark mark on his arm was to blame for the difference in color.

"If that sharp young man could do it, of course my little girl can too. I never had any doubt, but that was… unbelievable. Well, anyway, I like him, 'Mione. And your mother would have really liked him too, I'm sure," her father said with a ridiculous eyebrow waggle. "He seems very intelligent, and well-mannered. I imagine he must come from good stock, no?"

Unfortunately Hermione had been taking a sip from her now tepid tea as she heard her father's remark. She subsequently spit her drink across the kitchen counter at her father's inadvertent comment about Draco's parents. "Yeah, the best," she said with a cough. Recovering quickly, she dried the surface with a paper towel and explained, "That's one of the biggest problems with him actually. His family, specifically his psychotic tyrant of a _father_, is not very accepting of others deemed below their elevated station - which is everyone."

Her father shrugged, nonplussed. "I'm usually good at judging a person's character, and he seemed like a pleasant young man, a little lost and out of sorts maybe but decent enough." With that, Bill Granger pulled his daughter into a tight hug before adding with a chuckle, "Plus he has very nice teeth."

"Yes, quite a sharp, nasty tongue too," she retorted bitterly, concentrating on all the times Draco's cutting remarks about her parentage hurt her. Upon registering another of her father's unasked prompts to continue, she explained, "Dad, you of all people should know that sometimes pretty veneers simply hide the rot and decay." The orthodontist then stepped back from her to better look at his daughter's scowling face.

Knowing nothing of the events of the months leading up to and including the Battle at Hogwarts, she could tell the man simply couldn't understand why his usually good-natured little girl spoke with the scorn of an acrimonious old woman. Taking in her father's stunned countenance due to his positive impression of the mysterious blonde "gentleman" who just walked out the door and vanished into a black smoke cloud, she made another dentistry pun just to make her dad smile. "And I suppose sometimes all someone needs is a good polish."

Her father smiled proudly, re-engaging the hug as he replied with a pat on his daughter's head, "That's my insightful little girl. I was wondering where you'd gone."

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**A/N:**

I don't make money from these characters or concepts, but will happily accept reviews as compensation. This is especially true for this story since I haven't gotten a good feel for what readers are thinking about this storyline. I can say for certain that despite the dark place it started this develops into a fairly romantic and fun dynamic between Hermione and Draco, as well as fun times with some of the other characters I love like Snape, Neville, George, and Fred (who I know is dead but manages to make a guest appearance later in the story in a very fun way)! :)

Just saying, leave your thoughts or criticism. I'd love some input.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Please let me know what you think. I have some fun stuff happening in the next few chapters, but needed these two to bridge the awkward gap first.

**Forgiving Fate**

Chapter 6

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It was exactly 41 hours before Hermione saw Draco again, not that she would admit to counting. As much as she didn't want to intentionally fixate on Draco Malfoy's whereabouts, after cooler minds prevailed she had become concerned with his reasons for coming to see her in the first place. Chalking her slightly rude reaction up to being shocked by his presence, she failed to recognize the subtext he tried to convey during their impromptu conversation. Hermione only realized yesterday that he had not simply come for himself but to check on her well-being as also.

It was only after a brief conversation with Harry that Hermione learned he was the one who had innocently let it slip that she was keeping away from the magical world during a brief intermission in the Slytherin's trial. After learning of Hermione's "mysterious" absence from magic, Draco apparently asked Harry with a begrudgingly polite appeal if a private meeting could be arranged with Snape. Hermione determined that must have been when Draco learned of her current whereabouts, having disappeared from the courtroom in quite a flourish just after his trial's conclusion exactly like he had said. Harry found it spectacularly out of character that in his haste to leave to some unknown destination, Malfoy snubbed all of the reporters clamoring for his comments, leaving in a great haste without a word. Because she now knew he had discreetly come to see her straightaway, Hermione was overwhelmed by the sweet gesture, especially from someone known to be so unaffected by the affairs of others.

Considering the things that happened _that_ day, and the wedge between them as former enemies who became reluctant allies was such a complicated one, she wasn't sure what she was going to say when her visitor showed up today. Snape messaged her the night before that he intended to send Draco to deliver her potion since his testimony was needed for the hurried trial of Theo Nott's father. Apparently the elderly wizard's health was quickly failing and the Wizengamot did not want a posthumous trial. Severus was quick to point out that on any day she couldn't make it to his flat until she moved back in with him that Draco would make an excellent go-between. He was one of the only people who knew both of their locations, their secret connection, and his unwitting presence accomplished the proximity required from the bond without explaining Hermione's _situation_ directly to Draco.

As she grumpily vanished Snape's correspondence, Hermione decided that the manipulative Slytherins must have been conspiring against her. She had to hold out on the hope that Draco didn't realize what the potion was for since he already wielded too much power for her liking. Letting him know the actual extent of it was not high up on her To-Do list. Besides the physiological needs he governed over her, Snape's owl also delivered some disturbing news of a very different but equally upsetting variety.

Unable to return to the Manor, Snape had offered the room next to Hermione's to Draco, effectively making them roommates in the very near future. If she was going to take up Severus on his offer to come back to stay with him, which she was so her father could bring his wife home from the hospital, she would have to be alright with having Draco around without having delusions of ripping his hair out in the heat of the moment. It was too early to tell if that would be under passionate or violent circumstances.

Wishing for the ability to summon the requisite Gryffindor bravery the situation required, right now Hermione wanted nothing more than to confront Lucius Malfoy at his trial, to throw his handiwork back in his face for all of the wizarding world to see. Despite her caustic anger, in the end, Hermione simply lacked the courage. No matter how many times she wanted to tell someone – anyone – she was scared of being judged by her choices that day. What made it worse was she subsequently judged herself for her own weakness and fear. The whole cycle was simply exhausting and unfortunately pointless since it changed nothing about the dilemma she now faced.

Besides her desire to indict the one who wronged her, it would have been impossible to accuse the father without implicating the son. As bitter as she felt towards the younger Malfoy, her anger had more to do with his actions after Dobby saved their group from the Manor's basement and the ensuing scuffle in the Room of Requirement during the Final Battle than anything else. She couldn't understand why after he renounced his beliefs to her in private he then went out of his way to help Voldemort the first chance he got. It was unsettling, albeit predictable behavior from the ferret she had grown to loathe over the years at Hogwarts.

Nevertheless, she knew that they had an undeniable link now despite the fact that it remained an unspoken secret between them. Hermione knew it was something they needed to discuss even though she abhorred the idea of articulating the words aloud. There was simply no getting around it, and even more reason not to delay since her symptoms were getting worse by the day. Despite her desire to forget, her questions would never receive answers if she didn't address them directly, something Draco had tried to do on his prior visit.

Upon reflection, precisely what she'd been preoccupied doing ever since, Hermione decided he had seemed heartfelt and endearingly uncomfortable in her presence. So much so, in fact, that a little part of her couldn't help but believe her dad was right in his assessment of the Slytherin prat's good intentions. Hermione believed it came down to one simple truth. She trusted Draco once, if for only a short time, and she would have to again to see her curiosities through to a proper conclusion.

As if her thoughts called the Devil himself into action, the apparation which occurred a moment later on the edge of her field of vision left little doubt in her mind that asking the fates for something meant that occasionally they delivered no matter how ill-conceived the wish. With his robes billowing slightly as he became grounded, Draco meticulously adjusted his clothing before glancing around the yard for her.

Apparently the pretentious aristocrat had learned a lesson from Hermione's obvious displeasure with his surprise entrance in the middle of her vegetable garden on his last visit. Just as their eyes met over the rose bushes she was once again tending, Malfoy gave her a challenging look and walked around the corner of the house without a word. Hermione was confused about where he'd gone until she heard the front doorbell ringing a moment later.

Glad Draco wasn't around to see her blush, Hermione smiled excitedly, having every intention of playing her part in his grand gesture. Knowing the pureblooded wizard was trying to appeal to her muggle sensibilities of politeness with his dramatics, she couldn't help but feel the formality was charming and very unexpected.

With the smile on her face fading only slightly, Hermione walked through the house to answer the front door. Feeling slightly guilty for the way she treated Draco on his previous visit, she had to remind herself that he deserved her frustration. It had come as a direct result of his wishy-washy behavior in the final grips of the battle, something he'd certainly earned.

Trying to suppress some of her giddiness to see him in better spirits after she swiftly opened the door, clearly jovial from his mock-display, she greeted his grinning face as nicely as possible. "Decided to grace my home again, Malfoy? I would have thought my grumpiness on your last visit would have turned you away for good. Glutton for punishment perhaps?" She asked with a smile, realizing the moment the words fell from her lips that they were both reminded of the one thing they agreed not to mention yet again.

Awkwardly, he looked at her feet and powered through her conversational mis-step. "I wanted to apologize for coming over and demanding things not due me. You were well within your right to forget _those_ things that happened at the Manor. I came to apologize," he explained, leaving Hermione breathless as she absorbed the novelty of the situation.

Draco cocked his head, observing her reaction before continuing a bit more flippantly. "Since my previous visit here I have been receiving Snape's crash course on all things muggle. I now realize that knocking on the door is the social standard, something he specifically mentioned I should phrase just that way for some reason," Draco said, pausing as he waited for Hermione's chuckling over Snape's comment to subside. Even though the curious blonde wizard didn't quite understand the relationship between Hermione and his godfather yet, he was relieved to hear the sometimes volatile witch's laughter given the tense circumstances. "And… I brought you something sweet as a peace offering, as is also custom, correct?"

Expecting some clever wizard confection from Honeyduke's, Hermione opened her hands to receive a token she never expected from the wealthy aristocrat. With wide eyes she gestured him inside and back to the kitchen table where they had their last discussion. All the while she tried to hide her amusement with the Chocolate Fudge Pop-Tarts he gave her to demonstrate his thoughtfulness. Knowing he would not appreciate a joke about his uncharacteristically sweet gesture, she graciously remained quiet while opening the box and sitting down across from him.

It was only after she was seated that she realized she hadn't pulled the chair out far enough, causing their knees to touch under the table. A jolt went through her entire body as a result of the contact, a mental squeal of delight resonating inside her mind as she realized he made no effort to create space between them. Whether it was an unspoken challenge to see who would move first, Hermione found his lack of rejection oddly comforting considering everything that had happened.

"Would you like a piece?" she asked as the pleased young man watched her pull apart the silver sleeve. He obviously had no idea when he purchased them, but she had always loved this particular flavor of the breakfast pastry. In fact, she would happily eat it warmed up or straight out of the box, but she couldn't help but wonder how or why Draco chose them.

Watching her hands as Hermione broke the pastry in half, Draco nodded slightly and accepted it without thinking of how to hold it. The resulting crumbs falling all over the table and chocolate smearing his palm made Hermione giggle very quietly, flustering the wizard. She tried to smile to mitigate the damage done to his ego, fearful of his reaction if he thought she was making fun of his awkwardness in the muggle world despite the fact he had always done the same to her at school. Remaining as dignified as possible despite the alluring prospect of giving him a taste of his own supremacist attitude, ultimately she found his mannerisms too sweet and sincere to entertain a revenge fantasy at the moment, much to her own dismay.

Getting up to retrieve the kitchen towel, she reluctantly left the subtle touch of his warm body grazing the edge of her thigh behind. She wanted to make sure he knew she was grateful for his considerate attempt, so she put the other chocolate pastry in the toaster before cleaning the table. By the time she got each of them a glass of cold milk from the refrigerator, the Pop-Tart had jumped up from the machine, much to Draco's interest as he was startled at the sudden popping sound.

Going to the table with the melty pastry in hand, she placed it in front of him without a word. Looking at her curiously, she broke a small piece off the corner for herself and dipped it in the milk. Following her example, Draco did the same and took a bite. Rewarded with an instant reaction, she knew he liked it served this way much more, making what her mother would have called an appreciative "yummy noise" before having a sip of the ice cold milk.

His smile was more genuine than any she had seen from him before, leaving Hermione at a loss for words as to how to proceed. Her decision to remain quiet was unnecessary really since they had yet to speak except initially by the front door. It was odd and effortless, but the silence between them had actually become quite comfortable. Hermione felt calm for the first time in a long time.

After eating another piece, she tried to avert her eyes as Draco licked his lips and began to study the box appreciatively. "Are there other fantastic things like this I should be on the lookout for in the muggle world? These 'Pop-Tarts'," he said, checking the label again, "were certainly more delightful than I ever imagined desserts could be from a cardboard container."

With the companionable silence broken, she couldn't help but giggle. "There are many things which I think might surprise you here, but for future reference 'Pop-Tarts' are actually more of a breakfast pastry. Although I have to admit, I have occasionally had one for a snack in the middle of the day as well."

"Oh," he said, smiling awkwardly as he recounted the scene. "When I went into the store I didn't know what to get or where to look. I saw a woman buying them and her little boy looked so happy that I assumed they were an indulgent dessert treat, not for breakfast. It was quite good though. I haven't had anything like that before and I wonder what else I've been missing out on," he said with a lingering glance in her direction. With his eyes fixated on her hands on the table, she couldn't help but blush, wondering exactly what he was thinking about.

Feeling a renewed sense of sexual tension from the heat of his focused stare, she grasped at her necklace, trying to find strength from the object in her hand rather than its contents. Quickly taking a deep breath and fighting off every natural urge she had to rip Draco's clothes off to get what she needed more than air these days, she just barely managed to change the subject. "So, you've been talking to Severus quite a bit I suppose," Hermione tested, wanting to assess his reaction to determine how much he knew before she inquired about her parcel. Her hands were drawn to the vial containing the only source of relief she had available to her given the circumstances, not wanting to let go of her tether yet. "Did he give you something for me?"

"Yes, actually, I nearly forgot," he said, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a small box.

Hermione instantly recognized Snape's standard packaging. The plain brown paper wrapped box was magically sealed with a single cord attached at a waxy red circle with a wiry "S" indented into the hard, shiny compound. The whole package gave off an element of disinterest that made Hermione wonder if Snape had enchanted it purposely to remain inconspicuous; making it look dull and ordinary on the outside which was in complete contrast to the intoxicating potion contained within.

Stealing her focus away from her remedy for a brief moment, Draco laughed. "I never thought you and Snape would make such prolific pen-pals that he'd have to seal his correspondence in a box, especially considering he said you visit often even after you moved out. Though I suppose since you have a room in his home at all I shouldn't be surprised by this. It's not like Snape's running a youth hostel for just anyone," Draco said proudly, clearly lumping himself into that group. "I never realized he didn't actually despise you."

With a light chuckle to conceal her discomfort, she adjusted herself in her seat, willing her eyes to look away from the small brown package she wanted to claim so badly. She stated nonchalantly, "What can I say? Saving the grumpy guy seems to have warmed him to the thought of engaging an insufferable Know-it-All muggle-born like me on a regular basis."

After he finally placed the box in Hermione's outstretched hands, she narrowly resisted the urge to grasp his fingers. She felt like she'd give anything just to touch even a small part of him. Seemingly unaware of her rather embarrassing demeanor change, or maybe in spite of it, Draco cleared his throat and continued, "Snape's very… different now. Nearly dying has that effect on a person though, I suppose."

"Yes, quite an effect. I'm sure we can both agree to that one," she said with a chuckle that faded under the strength of the implications in that statement. Hastily redirecting the topic, Hermione asked, "How is his mobility? Any better? I saw him earlier in the week and he looked uncomfortable, but quite a bit sturdier."

"No substantial progress since then I would say, still using a fair bit of levitation to get around. The venom from Nagini's bite seems to have affected his nervous system more than they originally thought – possibly a permanent effect. To be honest, he should count each day as a lucky twist of fate that he didn't die from his paralysis before you checked on him. If it wasn't for you going back to treat him then he would have never survived. I think it's safe to say you will be his favorite student in the future."

"Yeah, too bad we're done with school," Hermione sighed.

He gave her a skeptical look, genuinely surprised. "So you aren't going back if McGonagall Owls? I would have thought you of all people would be first in line to play teacher while finishing your N.E.W.T.S." His comment wasn't meant to be sarcastic. Hermione's love of school was more fact than satire. Thankfully she realized that for herself because as soon as Draco spoke those words he flinched slightly, expecting a verbal tirade from the bookworm.

Instead she watched his reaction and simply smiled at him, knowing how true that statement really was but not wanting to give him the complete satisfaction of having her pegged so well. "Harry did tell me about the possibility of Hogwarts adding some eighth years considering the special circumstances, but I have been enjoying my time away too… Although I can't say it isn't a little intriguing since this would be the first time since I started Hogwarts where there isn't the imminent threat of death at school."

Draco smirked, his white teeth catching Hermione's attention. "Hanging around Potter certainly seems to come with an element of danger. You can get killed just from standing too close."

At the mention of Harry's name, Hermione tensed, nervous to have that age old rivalry reignited. There was something different in Draco's voice – more humor than venom. Hermione liked it, choosing to take his statement as a joke rather than an insult to her undeniably danger-prone friend.

She nodded, careful not to look directly at Draco's face for fear she'd give something away even though she was unsure of exactly what that was. "I wouldn't mind a happy, carefree year, but that means I would have to figure out how to relax first. It would hardly be a favor to McGonagall for me to attend carrying that kind of baggage around when there are first years coming who know very little about the things that happened there. It wouldn't be fair to them."

"Snape wants me to go back too," he said with an incredulous shake of his head. "He's been asked to return in some capacity yet to be determined. Even though he knows the other students won't want me there any more than I want to be there, he seems to believe it is important for me to stay in the public sphere so I am not shunned by the whole of the wizarding world." Draco leaned in slightly as if sharing a secret, adding, "To be honest, I think he just wants to keep an eye on me."

Ignoring the last part of his statement for the time being, Hermione believed Severus' encouragement had more duplicitous undertones. She returned smoothly, "I see, like an act of good will towards others might help change the viewpoint everyone would otherwise hold because of the past. Makes sense." Knowing Hermione would be likely asked back and that having Draco there would make her condition more controllable, the Head of Slytherin had outdone his typically proactive strategy by planting those thoughts in Draco's mind already. She really had to hand it to that crafty man, especially when he was working on her behalf as a true master of manipulation.

"I think he's also worried I'm going to wallow in misery like he had for so many years if left to my own devices," Draco said, unaware of Hermione's brief moment of inattention. "I think dying taught him a valuable lesson about enjoying his own life as well. He doesn't want me to make the same mistakes by distancing myself from everyone to the point I'm a grumpy old miser living alone at the Manor."

"Why would he think you'd be alone?" she asked suspiciously. "Where are all of your Slytherin cohorts this summer anyway? You usually have so many people surrounding you that I'm surprised you don't trip on their robes."

His face fell immediately, shifting in his seat a little before sighing. "I am going to be honest with you, even if you don't like hearing the truth." With that statement he quickly looked over her shoulder, trying to make eye contact but failing for some reason. "I have changed my outlook on certain fundamental principles my friends and I have held our whole lives. Some of them have not looked at that change as a positive thing."

"Certainly seeing what happened to their parents must have made things worse," she added with a nod.

"I'm sure it couldn't have helped," he said glumly. "They may have been less complicit in the Death Eaters' actions, their elder family members having been the ones directly responsible, but it doesn't mean they didn't agree with the Dark Lord's vision. They might never grasp the concept fully, but after everything that happened… everything I've seen… I just can't reconcile my former friendships with my new outlook."

"So I'm assuming they also don't know you're here then… with me. Well, if that's the case then I really have to ask… why _are_ you still here since Snape's errand for you is done? Just because no one else will talk to you?" Hermione accused, a little hurt that she was thought of as a last resort.

Understanding her current indignation, he explained, "I'm here because I want to be, not because my former friends won't give me the time of day - though they won't. Ultimately, it comes down to this… I find you refreshing and I respect you, despite any of my previous bigoted qualms and assertions to the contrary." His eyes met hers and roamed down her neck to her chest and back up to her face. She wasn't sure how to respond, having him so close was certainly not making it easier for Hermione to think straight.

"Well thanks for that, I guess," she finally said, feeling suddenly scandalized by his intense gaze.

Realizing he had made the situation a little too sexually charged by his actions and evocative words, he sat as far back in his chair as possible and scowled. Shaking his head to rid his mind of whatever dark thoughts had overtaken it for a moment, Draco purposely tried to sound light and carefree when he spoke again. "So, if you and I are to be friends, then I would like to learn what muggles do for fun. Snape's area of expertise in that area seems to be lacking for some reason." A small smile on his face spread to an actual grin as he winked and laughed.

It was an action she couldn't help but mirror as the mood lightened considerably. With the frivolity of the moment taking hold, freely laughing with her once sworn enemy at her muggle family's kitchen table, she realized that helping Draco experience the world outside of magic was the perfect way to help her reconnect with it too.

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**A/N:** I don't make money from these characters or concepts, but will happily accept reviews as compensation.

Next time – Hermione helps Draco brave the wilds of a muggle shopping mall, running into an unexpected source of trouble.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: You might have some questions pertaining to George's role in this story after this chapter, but it will all make sense later. Let me know what you think.

**Forgiving Fate**

Chapter 7

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"So teenage muggles just come here to walk around and look at each other?" the blonde wizard scoffed. "I mean, I understand the concept from attending Hogsmeade trips, but some of them don't even look like they intend to buy anything. Is this some ill-conceived muggle courting ritual?" Draco asked Hermione, his voice so serious she couldn't possibly misconstrue his question as condescending.

Ever since they had arrived at the bustling shopping mall two hours before, Draco had been studying the crowd and what he considered to be their eccentric customs. The Slytherin had been surprisingly diligent in his observations, behaving as though Hermione was tutoring him in Muggle Studies and administering an examination later. The thought was truly surreal – and slightly unnerving.

His newfound muggle curiosity was partly Hermione's fault anyway. She had originally drawn Draco's attention to the odd behavior of the people at the shopping center accidentally, pointing out a speed-walking senior citizen doing laps around the mall for exercise. In her defense, Draco hadn't been watching where he was going and almost knocked down the elderly man clad in a skin-tight tank top, tiny blue spandex shorts, and bright white running shoes with black socks pulled up to his knobby knees.

For some reason it had never occurred to Hermione before that physical activity for weight management was a foreign concept to wizards, never having met an obese one except for Crabbe and Goyle who more or less grew out of their pudgy childhood physiques. She couldn't help but be patient and indulgent, appreciating the novelty of Draco's exposure to such previously unheard of concepts. If nothing else came of the outing, Hermione found the pureblood's genuine interest and lack of sarcasm optimistic.

"Yes, I suppose they are like a flock of preening peacocks, aren't they?" Hermione answered thoughtfully as she observed a group of kids squawking about this and that as they strolled by.

Draco had purposely chosen to people-watch on a bench in the center of the multi-leveled shopping mall, silently absorbing muggle culture while he finished his Cinna-Bon treat. Hermione was mystified watching him watching them. It appealed to the consummate learner inside of her, finding it incredibly interesting as she saw his thoughtful gray eyes draw tighter in concentration before darting in every direction to take in more information. Looking the way a scientist might when observing a new species of primate in the wild, Draco was genuinely attempting to understand the customs he was witnessing.

Unfortunately the specific group of "gorillas" he was most actively studying was very entertaining in their potential for trouble, though not the best sub-sect of the muggle population from which to draw any meaningful conclusions. Hermione had actually bumped into this particular group of unruly teenage delinquents on a previous trip to the shopping center. On that occasion they had tried to intimidate her for money and then cursed her out for denying them. The encounter had thankfully resolved before things got too out of hand, but she was currently hoping to avoid them in general, especially in Draco's presence. Considering the teens' natural propensity toward violent outbursts and Malfoy's well-documented ability to make others want to punch him in the face, any interaction between them would undoubtedly prove to be a combustible mix.

After Draco was finally done with his unexpected people-watching venture, he rose from the bench and tugged on Hermione's shoulder, ready to return to their mission for coming to the mall in the first place. As the muggle-born witch took the lead, Draco happily declared with a satisfied expression, "When Father decided muggles were inferior I have to believe he had never considered their ability to bake. That dessert was delightful."

"Yes, I can see that," Hermione said, smiling, choosing to ignore the topic of the elder Malfoy in favor of bringing a finger to her lips, tapping the side to indicate the Cinna-Bon lingering on the wizard's lips. Without hesitation, his tongue darted out to lick the spot of icing from the corner of his mouth, making Hermione laugh at his innocent enthusiasm. She was just thankful he had corrected the problem so quickly. It was the only thing she could do to suppress the urge she had to take care of the mess herself.

"I really am glad you're enjoying yourself, but you may want to ease up on the sweets lest you need to join that elderly man doing laps for exercise," Hermione added. Ever since the day he delivered his Pop-Tarts peace-offering, he had kept up the pace of his indulgence in anything sweet they came across. It seemed that everywhere they went there was something else he wanted to taste or try, something new which caught his interest in a decidedly exuberant way. If she was being at all honest with herself she enjoyed seeing this side of the snooty pureblood much more even if it made him a little rounder in the middle.

Distracted by her musings over the elitist's surprisingly open attitude to the muggle world, the witch and wizard had somehow managed to walk past the group of trouble-makers unscathed. Although she had yet to caution Draco of her concerns over the rowdy teens, Hermione managed to break free of her anxiety long enough to feel grateful they had avoided a potentially volatile situation. Now that they were thoroughly past the ragged-looking group, Hermione chanced a glance back over her shoulder, realizing she had been premature in deeming them safe.

Immediately noticing the dark, cunning eye of the group's ring leader fixating on Draco, Hermione balked. He had indeed been watching them, yet had made no move to accost them so far. It was alarming to the witch still plagued with post-traumatic stress. It was as if the muggle had some magical power of his own, one that zeroed in on a potential cash-cow target as he assessed the likelihood of finding a substantial amount of money in the aristocrat's pockets. The angular-faced hooligan's thin lips broke into a sinister smirk as his gaze flicked to Hermione, aware of the threat contained in that look.

The thug's asymmetrical jet black hair fell into his face as he glared back at the young witch, looking down upon the couple with a sneer from his perch on the atrium's railing. Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but think he did look a bit menacing surrounded by his goth-enthusiast lackeys. Not wanting to judge him solely for that superficial observation, she met his hardened gaze and was convinced there was something else that disturbed her about him – a detachment in his cold stare.

A finely tuned sense of intuition that Hermione had developed during the war which was never limited by outward appearances caused her skin to flush. Her nerves were tingling with cautionary warnings. A sense of foreboding that her troubles with that bully were not quite over, Hermione knew by the disgusted look on his face - oddly reminiscent of Malfoy himself - she could count on it.

For the moment, Hermione chose to remain silent about her suspicion. Shrugging of the danger, she led Draco into yet another store to looking for a present for Arthur Weasley's birthday. Going about their search of this store as they had the others, he looked the items over on one side of the aisle as she considered the other like a choreographed dance. Stealing a covert look at her shopping companion, happy with her decision to include him despite his odd questions and incidentally insulting commentary throughout the day, Hermione couldn't help but be pleased.

In truth, both of them were simultaneously aware of and yet unwilling to admit aloud that they're day together had been fairly enjoyable. Trying half-heartedly to imitate their former rivalry lest things become even more awkward, they had difficulty accomplishing that feat with any success. There was no way to deny they had more in common than either could have anticipated, debating random points with enthusiasm as they found an easy companionable rapport while they shopped.

Although it had been George's idea to come to the mall, something Hermione was excited he'd suggested, the mourning wizard was far too depressed to leave the house when she'd come to collect him. After a very eventful visit she was forced to leave the grief-stricken man behind, knowing he really needed the gift since the birthday party was the next day. Since she wouldn't have another chance to shop on his behalf before going to the Burrow, Hermione had enlisted Draco's help instead.

After popping over to Snape's, her cheeks still rose-tinted courtesy of her encounter with George, Hermione found the former Prince of Slytherin unceremoniously flopped on the couch looking positively stir-crazy in his boredom. Apparently the paralysis in Severus' legs had resolved so much the night before that he left the hideout for an emergency visit to St. Mungo's which would last well into the night. She fought the inkling of regret that she had missed something so monumental on her mentor's road to recovery, reminding herself she would be living there again soon enough.

For the time being Hermione decided entertaining the Potion Master's godson for the day could be of some consolation. Overjoyed that Severus' legs were suddenly more operable, Hermione lost her sense of reservation and eagerly invited Draco to accompany her in George's stead. Despite his previous claims of intent, she was still surprised at how quickly the formerly bigoted wizard jumped at the chance to attend her muggle outing. With no other explanation available to account for his personality shift, she could only imagine that the time he recently spent incarcerated in solitary had made him accept her invitation instead of the lonely alternative.

"What exactly are we looking for again?" Draco asked. To his credit, there was only the faintest hint of annoyance in his tone. He was mostly mesmerized by the many muggle stores they had searched through already. Some of them were ridiculous, while other stores – like Sharper Image - were somewhat clever even if he was remiss to admit _that_ to the witch in his company. Pastries and sweets were one thing, but he was not yet ready to claim muggle technology as having true merit beyond a wizarding counterpart.

"I don't know exactly. Usually when I shop for Mr. Weasley I just look around until something strikes me as appealing," she said, handling a few household gadgets before returning them to the shelves as they perused the aisle together.

"That is hardly efficient, Hermione," he said with a smirk, seemingly unfazed by the use of her first name.

She could not say the same for herself, however. Feeling instantly flustered with the smoothness in which her name seemed to roll off his tongue. She had to hope she wasn't blushing since her temperature seemed to skyrocket at his casually spoken utterance.

"Yes, well, I think our luck is about to change," Hermione said with a smile, pretending to be excited simply at the prospect of ending their endless search and not with the fact that their hands kept accidentally grazing as they walked side by side down the cluttered aisle.

"What is this place anyway?" Draco asked, looking around in confusion as he saw strange appliances he wasn't sure the purpose of as they neared the back of the store.

"They sell things related to the home," Hermione explained, looking at a promising display of "As Seen on TV" merchandise.

"The Weasels need things replaced at the Burrow, can't say I'm surprised. Don't they have any house-elves?" Draco asked haughtily, years of discourse between the two pureblood families making his voice sound arrogant and cruel.

Mindful of the strides Draco had made and the patience it would take to encourage more, Hermione chose to overlook the implied insult in his tone. Chastising him without being condescending in return, she said simply, "Molly would not take kindly to you saying things against her home. And the Burrow isn't fancy, but it is very cozy and well-maintained. Besides, we aren't here because they _need_ things like this. The brilliant part about shopping in a gadget-type store is that no matter the intended use, Arthur seldom knows what muggle items do without an explanation. He imagines all of these fantastic things which are hardly ever correct."

Feeling reminiscent, Hermione explained further even though she wasn't sure if Draco would appreciate any Weasley details. "For Christmas two years ago I gave him a Stethescope, a medical device muggles use to listen to their heartbeats. Well, Arthur was convinced it was a tool to check the ripeness of melons. It was hilarious." She said with a snigger, "Right up until he asked me to bring him to the market so he could test it out."

"It's an odd tradition, but it seems we're looking to purchase a product to have a laugh at the expense of Papa Weasel," Draco said, sounding wickedly optimistic.

"No, nothing so sinister, you Slytherin arse. It just needs to be something that holds his interest. For example, for his birthday last year I got him a special calendar that had notations for the important events which occurred in the muggle world the year he was born. He absolutely loved it. This time I just have to get creative because I need two special things since George really wasn't up to coming out today."

"Yeah, I could imagine," Draco said quietly. The sincerity of his comment struck Hermione. She could actually tell he had given this some previous thought, the shock of which showed on her face. "Why so surprised, Granger? Thought that the cunning required of Slytherins meant we're devoid of all human emotion?" he asked, shrugging. "Quite the contrary. You have to be able to identify those emotions which convey weakness to be able to hide them properly… I feel things. I just don't let others see it too."

Seeing the look of awe on her face, feeling her rapt attention as he spoke so candidly, he continued, "Besides, I remember how close those twins were in school. I'm sure it's difficult to get along after losing a regular brother, but a twin, especially those twins… even _I_ can understand that," he stated resolutely, seeing the emotions playing in Hermione's eyes. "You really do care deeply for all the Weasels – excuse me, Weasleys – don't you?"

Pleased with the correction he made on her account, she spoke candidly. "They have been a family to me when I truly didn't have one. I have been helping look in on George because… well, he doesn't want the others visiting him. He's embarrassed and uncomfortable, and I… understand him without having to actually discuss anything," Hermione said, her mind drifting back to the unprecedented emotional outburst George had just before she ventured to Snape's earlier. Usually more withdrawn than confrontational, the whole encounter had alarmed Hermione on so many levels, some not even pertaining to the wild-eyed red-head.

Having just arrived at his flat via her usual sneaky maneuverings of disguises and quick apparations, Hermione found George standing in the middle of his living room looking exhausted, sweaty and panting like he had just played every position of a vigorous game of Quidditch all by himself. His eyes went wide when he noticed her standing in the doorway, almost like he had suddenly realized he had done something wrong and would have to explain himself since she had essentially caught him in the act.

Angry at her or himself over this revelation, George screamed at her accusatorily, "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing," she said firmly, closing and warding the door behind her so no one else would hear him yelling. "You never have to say one thing to me, George. I'm only here because I care about _you. _And even if you don't realize it right now, you need me to be here, if only just to have someone to yell at. Go ahead if you'd like, have a go. I really don't mind."

She then sat down cross-legged on the floor next to where he had suddenly collapsed in front of her. Her selfless declaration had effectively suffocated the flash fire which had sparked his temper. Evidently his anger was the only thing that had been holding him upright.

Scooting forward a little closer, Hermione kneeled and put her hands on his shoulders to get a better look at his tear-stained face. With gentle caresses, she carefully dried his eyes with the pads of her thumbs. "You can tell me anything. You can yell if you want. Cry if you want. I love you. I won't judge you no matter what you say to me, George."

"No, see… there it is again. Please, just don't call me 'George'," he pleaded, fresh tears forming in his already reddened eyes.

"I… well, alright, though I'm not sure how to avoid it unless you give me an alternative," she said, pushing the damp, sweaty hair from his face again. Knowing he responded best to small changes in the conversation rather than obvious segues, she went with subtlety to get him to respond. "To be honest, I've never been a huge fan of 'Hermione' myself, so maybe we can pick out some interesting new ones together. Off the top of my head, how about Jack and Jill? Perhaps Hansel and Gretel? You know, come to think of it, I'm actually partial to Peter and Wendy?

"You're lucky Mum read us some muggle books as children or I might have taken you up on the offer… Look, I am sorry for yelling at you," he practically whispered, his frown deepening as he nervously glanced around the room.

Hermione noticed his hands were shaking terribly. It was obvious something had unnerved him and though she wouldn't press him for information she needed to know what set off his wild behavior. Following George's eyes as they darted over the expanse of several walls, the subconscious action betrayed him. There was something vital missing, making the flat look almost stripped bare.

When she had initially entered she was distracted by the fuming red-head, only noticing the open space on the dark blue walls now that George wasn't in such a furious state. The walls no longer held the countless pictures they once had, scenes of identical faces in front of all types of backdrops. The Weasley twins' accomplishments had been abundant in their time together, something that was obvious by the moving photos which captured each happy moment from Quidditch triumphs to the day they opened the 3 W's. As striking as those radiant smiles were, it was the notion of togetherness that seemed so intangible now, the pictures a haunting reminder of an unattainable feeling George would never experience to the same degree without Fred.

Biting back any commentary for fear of inciting another heart-wrenching reaction from George, she continued to kneel in front of him. Stroking his red hair lovingly, Hermione realized she was almost petting him the way she did to Crookshanks when her emotions felt particularly strained. She wanted to offer more comfort, a hug and gentle words, but Hermione thought it best to let George work through things at his own pace today, without any pressure to force him before he was ready.

It was when she noticed the box in the corner, barely able to hold its contents as it was bursting with life that she decided to speak again. With the hard angular edges of the frames jutting from the box in every direction, Hermione saw a container which evidently now held every image of Fred Weasley that George could find. "Is that what I think it is, He-Whose-New-Name-Has-Yet-To-Be-Determined?"

"If you think it is a box of pictures of me and Fred then you are as smart as ever, She-Whose-Name-Need-Not-Be-Changed-Because-I'm-A-Pathetic-Fool-Who-Doesn't-Deserve-Her-Kindness."

Smiling at the ridiculously long moniker, Hermione asked, "What happened today, um, _Mr_. _Weasley_?" Squinting at him, she tried to find a more suitable alternative to George's given name that wasn't so awkward or so close to home.

"I went out today, you know?" he blurted, speaking before he seemed to realize the words left his mouth. He paused to let his brain catch up before he continued, his voice strangled as the threat of tears renewed. "I thought if I set a small goal and went out for just a little while, even if it was just to walk around outside then when you got here to bring me shopping I would seem… I don't know, maybe not quite as pitiful."

He paused for a moment, his voice was bittersweet and wavering when he continued, "I wanted to seem stronger or something for leaving the flat without you as my crutch… but I'm hopeless, really. I managed to get downstairs and a whole two steps out of the shop before one of my neighbors whose name I don't even know said 'Good to see you out and about, George'." He was breathless by the time he finished, Hermione looking at him expectantly. She was unsure for the moment where the problem laid in that friendly interaction and simply tilted her head at him in return.

Noticing that she was not commiserating with what he considered to be an obvious issue, he huffed. "Don't you see, woman? They will always know it's me now? There'll be no more hesitation or covert looks to see if I have an ear or not before venturing a guess at my name. I'll always be called George now, and I hate it!"

"Oh, I see," she said, his eyes finding hers as if to verify the truth. "I really do. After a lifetime of that confusion, even from your own mother, I can understand how jarring it would be to you. I'm slightly surprised this hasn't come up before now actually, but other than me who has really been around you?"

"No one. I don't want them here and I don't want to go out there where everybody knows my name," George said, causing Hermione to smile slightly even though she tried not to.

Looking at her as if she'd gone mental, she explained her inappropriate reaction. "Oh, Geor… um, I mean, _Peter_, I didn't mean to giggle. It's not you at all. There is just this old American muggle television program my father used to watch. The theme song is about how wonderful it is that everyone knows each other's names at this local bar. I apologize, it's just your phrasing was exactly the same as the lyrics. I imagined you singing the 'Cheers' theme song for a moment. Please don't be mad I laughed."

"I will never get angry hearing you laugh, _Wendy_. Fred and I spent many hours trying to plot and scheme on how to achieve just that elusive goal. Come to find out that all we had to do was sing, who knew? He'd never have believed it, that's for sure." George grasped her chin, tilting her head up. "Did you know Freddie always had a bit of a crush on you?" His eyes were already on hers as she lifted her gaze in surprise. It was as if he was waiting for her response like it would change everything. Little did she know how true that was.

"Hey, Granger, are you even listening to me?" Draco asked in annoyance, startling Hermione out of her memory from her awkward morning spent with George. "What about something like this?" he asked tersely, shoving a box into her hands. She was a little surprised with his sudden flare-up of hostility, but resolved not to dwell on it as anything more than a minor set-back. Still, sensing his ire with her, unaware of what caused it, made Hermione very uncomfortable.

Putting those perplexing thoughts out of her head temporarily, Hermione looked down to see a package of jumbo-sized Space Bags. Knowing Arthur had a magically converted vacuum cleaner with attachments which the item required, Hermione smiled indulgently at Draco. Arthur could be so silly at times that he might actually think they were some kind of flotation device and nearly drown himself trying to test them out. It was oddly perfect and would undoubtedly provide hours of hypothesizing for the inquisitive wizard.

"Terrific," Hermione said, shaking her thoughts off completely as she gave Draco's suggestion more thought. "I think I'll make this one from me, and now I just need something for George to give. I want it to be something he might have picked had he been here, so why don't we head to a toy store? That would be more appropriate."

After paying for the ingenious space-saving bags, Hermione led Draco to a large toy store she discovered when buying some presents for her youngest cousin Cassie in the States. Unlike in the home store where the wealthy wizard had looked at everything with a modicum of disdain, Draco was very interested to explore the muggle toys and games. It was refreshing for Hermione, who couldn't help but think his whimsy –even if it was hidden under an arrogant façade- was contagious.

He walked swiftly around the many displays, barely able to keep his eager grin from spoiling his typically aloof aura. No matter how removed he was trying to appear, Hermione could feel the happiness emanating from the aristocrat. His eyes were alight with wonder as he scanned the many colorful boxes, making Hermione have to suppress a girly giggle from escaping with the realization that whether they were muggle or magical, boys loved toys.

She was enjoying his reaction a bit too much, something which would certainly have aggravated the typically reserved Pureblood if he hadn't been too preoccupied to notice. Taking a deep breath, Hermione tried to quell her overwhelming excitement, unable to understand why she felt so affected. Muggle toy stores were not usually so impressive to her. It was difficult and a little disturbing to consider why on this occasion she felt so invigorated by it all.

With a glance at her shopping companion, Hermione looked first through the toy guns and other "boy" toys before moving on to remote controlled helicopters. It had potential since the elder Weasley would be both entertained and interested in the mechanics of flying without magic. Plus, both Fred and George had such a love for riding their brooms that this kind of gift for Arthur could easily convey that sentiment as well as being believably chosen by his son instead of Hermione.

Just thinking of George made Hermione feel a creeping sensation in her body. She wasn't sure why thoughts of her distraught friend conjured her bond-sickness reaction, but Hermione was fairly certain it had to do with guilt over what had happened earlier in the day. The whole situation with George had proven to be more disconcerting every time she considered the implications of what had transpired.

When George had looked at her, sitting on the floor of his flat with their knees touching, his eyes glistening with unshed tears again after mentioning his twin's name, her heart broke for him. She leaned closer just to give him a hug, unable to say anything after his startling admission about Fred's secret feelings for her. It wasn't until sometime after George's lips touched hers and she found herself partially underneath him on the floor that her foggy head cleared and Hermione realized why he chose that moment to kiss her at all.

In fact, they both seemed to make sense of it in the exact same moment. Neither spoke about the line that had been crossed or how wrong it was that he kissed her simply because it was something his brother would have potentially done. Instead they righted themselves and their clothing before getting up to sit on the couch, completely ignoring the incident and trying to move on without adding any unnecessary emotional drama to the already tense moment.

Though the strange incident seemed to naturally resolve without them addressing it, the way she felt during that moment with George pressed against her was still nagging at Hermione. Immediately blaming the awkwardness she felt from kissing her grief-stricken friend as the reason for her unease, the part of her logical brain which wouldn't let her fool herself was demanding answers.

The knowledge that her feelings of discomfort went far deeper than such a simple conclusion could quantify were puzzling to the usually shape-minded witch. For whatever reason, her blood felt like it was boiling. The instant she felt his weight on her, his lips passionately pressed to hers, she had become nauseous, dizzy, and feverish in her desire to make him stop. That was the element of the encounter which needed a better explanation.

Why had kissing George felt like she was committing such an unforgivable crime, a soul-crushing betrayal? In truth, had George not pulled away from her when he did Hermione would have harshly shoved him off only seconds later. She might have even thrown a hex his way just from the sheer level of escalating pain which began surging through her body from his kiss. It was too much to not react with repulsion despite the simple, sweet way their lips had met.

Whatever it was that occurred earlier that morning, Hermione was certain it had something to do with Draco and the damn bond that connected them. Just thinking of the blonde Slytherin made her want to throw herself at his feet and kiss her way up from there. Even her dramatic mental shudder at her own desperation did nothing to change her compulsion.

Chancing a glance at him, as if she could honestly help herself with him standing so close by, she noticed Draco's stormy gray eyes already fixed upon her. Somehow he looked just as confused as she felt, eyes simultaneously fixated with an unforgiving intensity on her face yet somehow unfocused like he wasn't really seeing her at all. Suddenly aware of her attentive eyes on him, however, Draco gulped once and forced himself with obvious difficulty to inspect a rack of books at the end of the aisle.

His thoughtful countenance was something she had noticed more than once throughout the day, always deeply contemplative while facing in her direction. Attempting to hide this behavior had become decidedly futile as Hermione witnessed him glance at her yet again before turning away in frustration. It was almost as if he wasn't sure where to train his gaze to avoid his incessant staring, unable to prevent it from reoccurring seemingly against his volition. The thought she was affecting him in such a similar way caused Hermione's heart to flutter in excitement, a wicked sense of retribution and equal-footing pervading her body for only a moment before it gave way to an intense concern for Draco's well-being.

It was all Lucius' fault. With something akin to evil glee, Hermione suddenly had it in her mind to send the elder Malfoy a scrapbook of the muggle corruption of his son. Every time Draco discovered something he enjoyed or could begrudgingly respect despite Lucius' engrained pureblood mantra, Hermione could take a photo to really drive the incarcerated dark wizard mad. Though it would be difficult to get something like that sent to the Death Eater's cell, Severus had said something in passing that the guards were easily manipulated so long as their prisoners remained in custody.

"Granger," Draco said with amusement, walking towards her with an almost knowing look in his silvery eyes, "Since George likes pranks and jokes, perhaps his father would believe this book came from him. Apparently it holds the recordings of incredible feats of stupidity and athletics from the muggle world. How is something like that?"

"Perfect, actually," Hermione said, knowing no one would expect the kind of outlandish gifts the twins would have traditionally given their father considering George's current emotional state. "Did you read over some of the entries?"

"Yes, and I have to say that the idea of stuffing large quantities of food in your mouth for the purposes of recognition does nothing to negate the stigma of muggles being utterly stupid," he said with derision, amending with a casual shrug, "Sorry, Granger."

Hermione beamed at him for his effort. "Thanks, Malfoy, but I think I will let your prejudice slide just this once. I read one edition of this book when I was a child and I have to say that I am not at all impressed by seeing how fast one might be able to go on a lawn mower or the greatest amount of men dressed like Santa that can fit in a row boat," she said, fighting a huge smile when she saw how relieved Draco was by her reaction to his muggle barb. "Arthur will at least find some entertainment value from it. That is what counts after all," she said, wandering the next aisle beside Draco as they made their way up to the counter to pay for the book.

"Have you ever played any muggle games?" she asked, eyeing the myriad of interesting merchandise along the shelves.

Looking at the boxes on either side of them, Draco considered her question before answering. "None like these, I believe." Thinking on the subject for a moment longer, he added, "Actually, other than Truth or Dare during first year I really don't think so. My friends really did not come across anything muggle when on holiday. Well, except for Nott maybe, but he'd have never brought something like that up to the rest of us. Besides, no matter how interested Papa Weasley is in muggle culture, I don't think he would fancy telling everyone about his first kiss or doing a dare like running naked laps around the Burrow if that is what you're getting at."

Hermione's uproarious laughter at the imagery he presented was a welcome respite from her previously disturbing musings about her kiss with George. She couldn't help but keep up the levity by countering Draco's comment with a smile. "First kisses and naked laps? That was your experience with Truth or Dare, and first year you say? Didn't realize you had been a snogging nudist as an eleven year-old, Malfoy. That sounds positively scandalous. How did you possibly manage to top that second year?"

Hermione was pleased to see him laughing too, finally understanding every good-natured joke made at his expense didn't warrant a biting retort in return. "Say what you will, but we Slytherins had to find some regular ways to have fun. Can't all be brave little Gryffindors off dabbling in various acts of heroism as children, now can we?" She looked at him in disbelief. "It was hard to compete with some of your more death defying stunts, Granger," he said haughtily.

"Some of them were quite death defying, weren't they? Could have done without being petrified by the Basilisk though," she said as she grabbed his hand to lead him to the register. Dropping her grasp of his warm fingers the second she realized what she had done, neither commented though she couldn't help but wonder if he felt like she did from the simple touch. It had powerfully magnified everything she'd already been experiencing in his presence, a comfort so undefinable that it begged to be explored further if she could just gather the nerve to bring it up.

"I think you've got a brilliant idea with playing a game though if that was your intention," Draco remarked, his voice oddly nervous. Hermione must have looked confused so he explained, "Wouldn't it be easier to deal with that uncomfortable family dynamic with some sort of distraction like a game that everyone has to learn?" She nodded her head in appreciation before turning away from him to better hide her grin, pretending to look at the titles on the board games to her left.

Feeling over-exposed in front of Draco, Hermione knew she needed to safe-guard the parts of herself which could be disappointed by him yet again. Sobering herself, she regained her ability to read and saw a few titles she was familiar with playing as a child. "Actually, that is rather brilliant," Hermione said as she thought over the clever idea more thoroughly. "The boys have always played Quidditch at family get-togethers. This is the first party since Fred died and the awkward notion would certainly have come up at some point. Probably an inconsiderate comment on Ron's part and then George would be rendered incoherent, undoing all my hard work in getting him out of his flat in the first place."

Draco nodded as he watched her pay greater attention to the board games and boxes surrounding them, slightly disappointed he wouldn't get to see his idea come to fruition firsthand. It really wasn't an aspiration of his to absorb all aspects of muggle culture, but Hermione's enthusiasm and nostalgic expression as her nimble fingers ran over the edge of a box labeled "Snakes and Ladders" left him more envious of the Weasleys than he would ever admit.

Hermione stated optimistically, "I could conceivably make the day all about having a muggle game marathon without making things obvious that I'm avoiding the Quidditch Pitch. Molly would be relieved and happy to help too I'd bet." She looked at Draco thoughtfully, her gratitude evident in her kind eyes as she tried to determine how to properly convey the sentiment.

"No need to thank me, Granger," he commented, somehow aware of her feelings again as he meandered down the aisle just ahead of her.

After quickly gathering some surprises for the Weasley family, Hermione proceeded towards the cash register. Draco had said not to thank him, so she didn't. Instead she focused on paying for the book, a laser tag set, a deck of cards, and a Twister mat before discreetly grabbing a few other items from the counter display while Draco was distracted.

He was busy staring at various wind-up toys walking around a fenced-in area, bumping into the walls before flipping over to walk in the opposite direction. Along with her other purchases, she bought a pocket edition of a book of baby names for George and a few packages of Pop-Rocks and an assortment of other muggle candies for Draco. She wanted to surprise both of them with something from her shopping trip too, and the surprisingly helpful Slytherin seemed to have a very potent sweet tooth she knew she could exploit.

She approached Draco with her hands full of bags, barely able to make her way into the front corner of the store where he'd been perusing a rotating display of new video games. Noticing her predicament, he discreetly blocked her from view with his body and gestured to the packages. Recognizing his cue even though it went unspoken, she immediately shrunk the bag containing the ten extra laser tag guns to fit into one of the larger bags, making the abundant purchases seem more manageable.

"Ready?" he asked, sauntering out from behind the display with his hand on her shoulder. Hermione nodded and exited the store a step behind him, unsure of how she had become so in-sync with the Slytherin.

As soon they left the shop and fell in line with the other people milling about the sunny second floor atrium, Hermione noticed the group of delinquent teens from earlier already walking in their direction. The leader's sharp gaze was piercing despite the distance and it seemed conceivable that he and his gang of misfits had been waiting for Hermione and Draco to emerge from the toy store. It appeared they were even heading towards the corridor which led to the parking garage which Hermione routinely used for inconspicuous apparation. She couldn't be sure, but it was possible they had seen her exit this way before and knew it would provide the best place to corner her.

Uncomfortable with walking anywhere near them without at least warning Draco of the potential danger first, Hermione put her hand on his forearm and blurted out, "Can I ask you something I've never had the nerve to say out loud?"

He stared at her hand on his arm for a moment before responding with a smirk. "A question _you _are afraid to ask? Well, let me owl Snape immediately and let him know. Barely mobile or not, he will find a way to come here and see this for himself." Draco laughed, taking the two heavy bags out of her hands like a gentleman. She didn't stop him, figuring his upbringing made the move almost instinctive, though it brought a blush to her cheeks nevertheless.

"Stop laughing, I'm serious," she chastised with a small smile. It was supposed to be for medicinal purposes, a way to mitigate her symptoms, Draco had provided great company and Hermione was even more thankful that Severus was such a wise man to insist they spend time together despite her initial reservations. She had to hope she wasn't going to ruin their current rapport with what she was planning to say next. "I need to know something," she admitted in a more serious tone.

"What is it?" he asked, still chuckling slightly as they strolled a little slower.

"The blood. Do you… can you… as a pureblood, can you actually tell I'm muggleborn somehow?" she asked, embarrassment clear in her shaky voice.

Hesitating with his answer, Draco stopped walking entirely, causing them to get trampled into by the people who had been walking behind the couple. "I'm not sure what suddenly brought this on, but…" he said, trailing off as his brow furrowed in frustration.

After a deeply troubled sigh, he continued, "Honestly, yes, but not for the reasons you might think. We all know each other, or at least purebloods know each other's families and histories. Some people have attributes which are immediately recognizable, like the Weasleys' flaming red hair or the Malfoys being blonde."

That had been obvious to Hermione the day she arrived at Platform 9 ¾ before her first year at Hogwarts. Distinctions between the wizarding families had made themselves obvious to the observant witch at the train station long before she understood the division was based on bloodlines.

Draco continued cautiously, "Without those indicators, if you factor in the way a person carries themself, the way they dress, or the way they speak, then it becomes easier to guess who has first or second generation magic. It's not something I was taught, but I suppose you could say it was something I learned from running in certain social circles. Out of curiosity, why did you ask that all of a sudden?"

"Because they _can_ tell we're different - both of us. Muggles, I mean. I just wondered if you could feel it on some level too," she said, finding his expression confusing.

"What is bringing on these questions now?" he asked, looking slightly hurt but the glimmer of emotional vulnerability in his eyes quickly gave way to irritation. "Are you really so uncomfortable with me still?"

"We are being followed by the group of muggles who you were watching earlier. I didn't mention it before because I hoped it wouldn't be an issue, but they harassed me the last time I was here. Their leader tried to bully me into giving him money. When I refused they got very hostile and made some threats." Hermione wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Draco flinch.

Deciding not to press the possibility of what that might mean given their circumstances, she continued quickly, "I didn't think I had a choice and was about to pull my wand to defend myself when a security guard just so happened to walk by. That diffused the situation entirely. The thing is that this time it's just us and them, and I really don't want any trouble."

Draco scowled but nodded along. "Judging by the way the main trouble-maker was already glaring at me, I have a feeling that is exactly what might happen now that they've clearly spotted us again. And since we have to get to that parking garage over there to apparate in secret, I don't see how we could do that with them in tow."

Draco seemed to think over her statement, discreetly eyeing the group in question out of the corner of his eye as he kept his face turned to her. "Do you think there will be trouble this time considering you aren't alone?"

"I have every reason to think there will be, maybe more so because there are two of us this time. They know we're different. They _can_ feel it. Oddly enough, they consider us the same, both just as strange. So for all the reasons blood purity never made sense to me, it's a moot point with the muggles who think we're all a bunch of freaks no matter whom you're related."

"Well, I do believe we will find out shortly. They appear to be waiting for us to start moving again." Shockingly, Draco seemed to be handling the news in stride, not letting a shred of worry alter his aristocratic features.

Hermione was flustered over her options, trying to think quickly of how a peaceful resolution could be reached if they were accosted by the teens. It was obvious the group was indeed following them and they were much closer than she had realized the next time she ventured a look over her shoulder. It seemed that the juvenile hooligans had chosen to stall near a sunglass kiosk until the couple finished their discussion. Probably waiting to openly target them until the moment they were in the darkened parking garage, Draco looked a little more uncomfortable now, almost angry that the delinquents were bothering them at all.

As they resumed walking, he began a resentful diatribe, complaining under his breath that he knew muggle crowds were trouble. Distracted by his muttering, Hermione was about to steal another glance over her shoulder when their progression was halted completely. With Hermione pulled back by her free hand, Draco, who had been holding on to her other hand, found himself yanked backwards as well.

Without hesitation the young wizard swiftly whirled around and effortlessly pulled Hermione behind him, dropping the bags from his hand with the pile collecting at his feet with a thump. Aside from the novelty of his behavior towards her specifically, she was very impressed by his quick, protective reaction, the speed of which came as a shock.

"Need something, mate?" Draco asked derisively, cocking his head to the side as he challenged the ring leader. "Or perhaps you think it is okay to just grab women like that whenever you please? The slag on your arm does look a little used up, so I suppose I understand you trolling." Draco paused, ignoring the sharp gasp from the worried witch pressed up against his back, clearly enjoying the insulted reaction on the faces of the muggle delinquents. "This _lady_, however, is not to be touched by the likes of you – not ever."

Hermione was rendered speechless by his words. Draco was displaying every bit of the Slytherin attitude she had become accustomed to over the years and the flashbacks were quite unpleasant. Although his claim over her caused chills of a completely different nature to thrum through her body, at war with her memories of being on the receiving end of this same treatment while luxuriating in the way it felt to have his loyalty directed at her.

The quick-witted insult didn't seem to deter the leader of the group, however. In fact, Hermione couldn't help but think he looked almost excited to have someone finally dare to fight back against their harassment. She had seen the bullies in action enough to know that almost no one ever did. The leader scowled, jeering, "We were just hoping you'd share the wealth, _mate_. You both seem to have more than enough for your own good. Thought you might want to invest in an insurance policy."

"An insurance policy?" Draco asked with mirth. Hermione wasn't certain if the wizard even knew what insurance was, or if he did whether he was aware it wasn't typically offered by teens roaming a shopping mall.

Although his beady eyes gave away his annoyance, the ring leader spoke with a detached, almost bored tone. "Your little bitch has been here before, and quite a mouthy little thing too if I remember correctly. Well, she got out of paying her dues last time and we've come to collect with interest. This place is ours, you see, and if you plan on coming here you'll need to pay something akin to a tax for the right to leave here unharmed."

"That's ridiculous," Hermione said over Draco's shoulder, looking at the group of menacing faces in front of them. Behind their leader stood three hulking boys in skin tight jeans and an array of metal-studded black clothing. Beside him was a stick-thin girl with far too much makeup and too few clothes. Despite the small differences, there was something eerily similar about being in this position with Malfoy, even though the lines had been drawn much differently this time.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," Draco said smoothly, something Hermione recognized was going to be followed by a thinly veiled insult by the slick tone of his voice. "I'll give you more money than your parents probably make in a year if you can admit something for me. Just admit to being a mindless bunch of losers who are either too lazy or too stupid to work for your own so you resort to begging like desperate degenerates looking for handouts."

Hermione inhaled sharply, almost painfully, shocked that Draco's idea of settling matters between them and the unruly bunch of teens was to purposely antagonize a fight. "Draco," Hermione cautioned, "Please stop. Let's just leave before someone gets hurt."

"Yeah, that's right. Run away, you coward," one of the followers in the back taunted. She rolled her eyes, knowing the muggles were unaware the people Hermione was referring to, the ones she was trying to protect were the cat-caller and his friends.

Apparently "coward" was the wrong thing to call Draco, probably a sore spot after the punishment he endured from the Death Eaters who claimed him weak for not killing Dumbledore. Even though the kids missed the draw of Draco's wand from behind his back, having had it tucked into the waistband of his pants under his dress jacket, Hermione had a very good view of the Hawthorne wand that changed the tide of the war as he maneuvered it between their bodies.

Harry had returned the wand to Draco just after his trial. It was as a thank you for Narcissa's deception in the Forbidden Forest, figuring Draco would be able to return his mother's wand to her if he had his own again. Now Hermione feared she was about to see that very same wand used on these idiot muggles, landing Draco right back in the Ministry jail without any possibility of avoiding Azkaban for a second time.

"Please don't hurt them, Draco," Hermione begged, pleas which were muffled by the condescending laughter of the group of five looking forward to what they thought would be a one-sided fight in their favor.

"Yeah," one kid laughed, mocking Hermione in an effeminate tone, "Please don't hurt us, Draco."

To Hermione's surprise, the Slytherin looked absolutely unfazed by the teens, concentrating on his next move as he kept his wand concealed behind his body. Hermione noticed his wrist twitch along with his lip, a satisfied sneer on his face before he slid his wand up his sleeve, careful to keep the tip extended just beyond his middle finger.

"I won't have to hurt you if you take this opportunity I am graciously providing and run back to the squalor from which you came," Draco said flatly, almost bored of the situation.

Offended for what seemed like the first time, Draco's comment stirred the group's leader into action. Bringing his arm from around his back, Draco made a broad gesture with his hands the moment the leader indicated for his group to advance. At least that was what it must have looked like to the muggles just before they all fell to the ground like tumbling dominoes.

Hermione wondered what Draco had cast, noting a familiar looking purple color at the end of his sleeve a moment before the group had stepped back in unison. _Probably a revulsion jinx_, she decided, but wondered why they fell at all until she realized that they had stumbled over each other because they were standing so close. It seemed all bullies liked that tight-knit approach. Hermione was positive she'd seen Draco and his lackeys in precisely the same formation a time or two over the years.

Taking the opportunity to pull the angry wizard away before he got any ideas to continue taking out his frustrations on the gang of muggles, Hermione shoved her hand back into his to get his attention. Swiftly picking up the previously discarded purchases, she clasped her fingers over his, pressing her palm against the slender shaft of the wand still in his hand before pulling him out the nearby exit.

Once in the darkened parking garage, Hermione found a large deliver van and ducked behind it. Hearing the door they had just gone through opening again, the raucous group of angry teens tumbled out of the narrow passage two at a time in their hasty pursuit, yelling nasty slurs and hateful intentions of what they were going to do when they caught the couple. Hermione didn't hesitate for a moment and apparated them both away, Draco's hand still firmly locked around hers.

.*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*.

**A/N:** I don't make money from these characters or concepts, but will happily accept reviews as compensation.

Next time – Hermione and Draco have an illuminating discussion and Snape makes an appearance.


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